Ragnarok
by Bob the Tarantula
Summary: It has been countless ages since the Dom Kavash left their empire. In the time that has passed, what has come reside on the other side of the hypergate? What will happen now that the pathway to Sirius is open? T for language
1. Prelude

I originally started posting this story at the name SteelFang a while ago, and I have now decided to post it here as well. The story gets better as it progresses. Feedback is appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** Not gonna do it. To the companies, fanfiction is free advertising. Why spend money to get rid of it?

**Prelude**

Nomad Homesystem

Nomad Battlemaster Ulri Xiamee watched in amazement as the human called 'Trent' activated the hypergate, the same one that the great Fathers had disappeared into so long ago. It was not possible! The Fathers had hidden the great artifact where it could never be found! Ulri's mind retreated from his senses and began to ponder furiously. How could a small pack of humans penetrate the solar system's protective sphere, slip by the internal defense grid, and bring down the shield around the city and activate the gate? The odds were overwhelming!

Before he could ponder this further, a sudden lurch forced Ulri off-balance and snapped him out of his state of deep thought. The hypergate had begun to pull him in. Being the commander of a mighty battleship, he pushed the engine to full power and managed to bring the massive ship to a standstill. But the gravitational pull from the gate was steadily increasing, and the great ship quickly succumbed to the backwards pull. Ulri screamed aloud in dismay as he, along with hundreds of other nomads, fell into the hypergate and sped through a tunnel, awash with color, moving at an incredibly fast speed.

But Ulri's scream caught in his throat when he reentered normal space. A new ship dominated the frontier in front of him. It was tremendous, easily five times longer than any nomad battleship. It was clad in dark red chrome and, adding to its fierce look, possessed a fluctuating red aura around it.

Neither the mysterious ship nor the nomad fleet moved, creating a strenuous silence. Each had taken the other by surprise.

The red ship broke the silence first. Turrets along its lateral line warmed, glowed, and with a horrible rattling belch, discharged their built-up energy, fiery red orbs trailing oily black smoke, directly at the nomad fleet. Ulri Xiamee gaped in horror as one of the bursts impacted upon a nearby cruiser. Blue light illuminated the scene as the cruiser exploded. Fighters, plated with the same red chrome as the larger ship, appeared out of nowhere and began picking off the nomad fighters like flies, their weapons and engines shrieking like a thousand tortured souls. The giant enemy ship's turrets warmed and discharged again, this time directly at Ulri. Ulri panicked and jammed his ship's throttle as far as it would go, straining his ship to the breaking point in order to dodge the incoming cannon fire. But alas, his ship was too slow to move in time, and two of the destructive orbs caught the large craft on its side, breaking it in two. The once great battleship dissolved into nothing as an angry red fire quickly consumed it, and Battlemaster Ulri Xiamee screamed as he died.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Planet Manhattan, New York System. 2 years later

The Liberty sleeper ship swung into view as Trent prepped his Sabre for landing after another successful mission. Liberty Rogue Perry Johnson was tied up in the cargo hold, and payday was only minutes away. Trent lowered his ship until it hovered a few feet off the ground, activated the gravpad, and the Sabre came to rest a foot off of the surface of the landing pad. Trent then punched in a few commands on the control panel, and the cockpit opened with a hiss, followed by a motorized hum as a telescoping ladder extended from the side of the ship to the ground. Trent climbed down.

Two men were waiting for Trent on the landing pad, both wearing Liberty Navy suits. One of them pushed a small cargo transporter, specifically designed for handling escape pods. They approached Trent, and flashed their IDs.

"Mr. Trent, we're with the Navy. Is Mr. Johnson ready for transport?"

"Yeah. Follow me."

Trent led the Navy personnel to the side of the Sabre and flipped open a small hatch, revealing a numeric keyboard. He typed a number sequence, and then pressed ENTER.

The Sabre's underside cargo hatch opened, and Perry Johnson's escape pod was lowered onto the transporter via a tractor beam, where it was automatically scanned. One of the Navy officers turned to Trent and removed a data pad from his pocket, and Trent did the same.

"Well, Mr. Trent, it looks like Mr. Johnson is alive and well. I'm transferring your payment now."

The officer executed a command on his data pad, and the screen on Trent's pad flashed green twice. The transfer had been successful.

"There you go. See you around, Mr. Trent."

"Thanks," Trent replied.

Trent closed up the Sabre, pocketed his data pad and walked off. But before he could get some R&R, he had to make a pit stop. A little something for Juni…

As Trent entered the shop he recognized the man behind the counter, Julio Mendez, the man who owned the store.

"Oy, Trent! Good to see you again!"

"Hey, Julio," Trent replied as he approached the counter. "You got the ahem package?"

Julio beamed. "Yessir, it came this morning. Hang on, let me go get it." Julio turned and headed through the door that led to the back of his shop.

Julio's small shop, unlike most other shops, was a place where you could buy or sell practically anything. Several people accused him of being an Outcast or Corsair, due to his family's apparent Hispanic heritage, but Julio' family had arrived in Sirius aboard the Liberty sleeper ship. And contrary to belief, he did not deal in contraband.

Julio returned from the back of the shop, carrying a small velvet box and set it down on the counter. "I hope you know what you are doing, man. These are very hard to come by, especially including your specifications, and it can get you into a very messy situation." Julio smiled.

"Thanks, Julio," Trent replied, "but I think I know what I'm doing." Trent opened the box.

Inside the box was the embroidered message "Marry Me." But behind those two powerful words sat an Inamorata engagement ring. This extremely rare ring was made to celebrate the coming of the year 800 A.S., and featured a rather large diamond bordering the inside curve of a gold crescent moon. Only 800 had been made. The year that the ring was made had some significance, being the year that Trent first met Juni, as well as their assistance in saving the colonies from the Nomads.

Trent turned the open box in his hands, noting the pure gold that made up the ring. It was too beautiful to be removed from its resting place. Trent stared at the diamond and smiled. Its tone was a deep blue, exactly the color that he had requested. Juni had always had a thing for blue…

The sound of Julio loudly clearing his throat brought Trent's attention back away from the ring. Trent closed the box.

"You do remember our agreement, don't you, Mr. Trent?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thirty thou." To Trent, Juni was worth much more than money. He pulled out his data pad and the screen flashed red once as Trent paid Julio the money, then he pocketed the ring and left. It was late and he should be getting home.

Trent quietly entered his house, crept to the bedroom, and peeked through the door. He noted with relief that Juni was already in bed, asleep (they had been living together for the past few months). Trent removed the ring's box from his pocket, held his breath, and tiptoed on in.

Juni had the unusual habit of keeping a small glass of water on her bed stand to hydrate herself when she woke up. Careful not to wake her, Trent removed the glass of water and put the ring in its place. The next morning when Juni would wake up and reach for the water, she would find the ring instead. It would be the most wonderful wake-up call of her life.

Trent got dressed for bed and crawled under she sheets beside Juni, and lightly kissed her forehead. She smiled in her sleep. Trent rolled over and dozed off.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Unknown planet, unknown space outside Sirius

Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo was different than most other members of his species. He was rather small and only thinly built. He never spoke or acted with much enthusiasm, and consequently tended to be quite boring in the company of others. He was, however, quite intelligent, which had given him one of the most honorable duties off the battlefield: gathering Intel. Still, the job was considered pretty pathetic compared with the glory of a front line duty that most of his people eagerly clamored for.

Now Nalemo stood in front of two large metal doors, the only objects that separated him from Selestren-Kulam, leader of their powerful race. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be honored or frightened. Kulam, being the leader of his species, was without question the most glorified figure known, and under normal circumstances most of his people would be extremely humbled to meet such a being. But Kulam had been known to be extremely hostile towards anyone that angered him, and with his own two claws would inflict severe, oftentimes fatal injuries to those who got on his bad side.

Nalemo had his hopes up, however, as the news he carried would most certainly please his master. But this didn't keep him from being nervous.

Extremely nervous.

The doors shuddered and slowly opened with a low groan, revealing a sheet of darkness that engulfed the adjoining room. A deep voice reverberated in Nalemo's ears.

"Enter"

Nalemo nervously ran a claw through the long silver hair that crept down his neck. He took a deep breath and slowly walked into the darkness that the doors had concealed just moments ago.

As soon as Nalemo cleared the entryway, the heavy doors slammed shut behind him with a loud metallic _boom_, causing the alien to freeze with fear mid-stride. Nalemo struggled to banish the unpleasant emotion from his thoughts, quickly regained control over his body, and brought himself to a proper stance. Though it was impossible to see anything, the alien glanced about, waiting for something to happen.

A dull light popped on, its rays directed at another creature standing roughly six feet in front of Nalemo, and the being turned to face him. It was Selestren-Kulam.

Nalemo was unprepared for what he saw. Kulam was easily a head taller than what was considered average. Deep grooves ran down his limbs and across his torso, outlining hundreds muscle fibers as the massive things seemingly strained to burst through his brown-grey skin. His long hair was a filthy black and covered the skin on his spine and the back of his forearms, hanging down like moss on a reed.

Kulam flexed his immense jaw muscles as he directed his attention toward Nalemo. "Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo. What news do you bring me?"

Nalemo's nervousness subsided a bit as he was finally able to concentrate on his report, and not the creature that stood before him. "Master, the data feed from the probe we sent through the Dom Kavash hypergate has finally been received."

"_Finally,_" Kulam thought, "_After all this time_". Kulam leaned towards Nalemo slightly as his he became more interested in what the smaller creature had to report. "Were you able to triangulate the signal?"

Nalemo nodded. "Yes, Master." He then proceeded to conjure a small holographic device and clicked it on. The space between the two aliens filled with small clusters of stars, represented by pinpricks of light in the air. Nalemo pointed a claw at one particular blob of light. "The signal originated from here, Master. Sector 7-R-Kappa, sub-sector G-14-Rho. Data shows a star system, Master."

"How well is the system guarded?" Kulam asked.

"General scans show numerous enemies, Master, but they are of a different species from the Dom Kavash, and they do not appear to be very advanced. We will be able to take control of the system without much trouble."

Kulam abruptly reached out and clicked off the hologram. He had heard what he had wanted to hear. A thin smile spread over his elongated jaw. "Excellent. I will rally our soldiers. We have the coordinates to the Dom Kavash empire, and the glory of the kill awaits. Soon the old empire will be transformed into our new military stronghold, and the gods will be appeased."

Kulam's smile turned into a serious look on his face and waved the other alien to the doors. "You are dismissed."

Trying not to look eager to take his leave, Nalemo turned around and left.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Planet Manhattan, New York System

Juni was still half asleep when she reached for her morning glass of water. Instead her hand fell upon a small, soft box. It felt like velvet.

"_What the hell is this?"_ she thought groggily. She sat up, forced the sleepiness out of her eyes, and held the box in front of her. It was very pretty. Then Juni's heart leapt as she realized what the box was. She quickly found the seam and opened it.

Juni could not believe her eyes. An Inamorata! She had heard of these beautiful rings, but had never thought she would ever see one, let alone own one. Her eyes took in the spectacle in her hands, turning it slightly to gaze upon it from different angles. Juni then took attention to the words inscribed in front of the ring: 'Marry Me.' She tore her gaze away from the inscription and turned to look at Trent, quietly sleeping beside her. The love struck fool! Of course she would marry him! She loved Trent with all her heart. Juni quickly leaned over and began to madly kiss him.

Trent awoke being smothered by Juni's kisses. At first he was surprised, but was quick to return the favor. He embraced her in his arms, holding her close. They continued kissing for another 40-or-so seconds, when Juni finally pulled back and sat up, propping herself up with her slender arm.

"So," Trent asked, "What was all that about?"

Juni was somewhat puzzled by the question. Shouldn't he know? She decided to answer anyways. "I found the ring," she replied

A recollection of the events of the previous night rushed into Trent's mind. _"Damn," _he thought. _"I was hoping that I would be awake before she saw it."_ Trent improvised on the situation. "Oh, you did?"

Juni nodded and lay back down in the bed on her side, her face close to Trent's. The ring was still in her hand. "Mmmm-hmmm" She gazed into his eyes, a smile spreading on her face. But suddenly her eyes narrowed and her voice turned serious. "Is this your way of proposing to me? Or is this one of Tobias' half-baked stunts?"

Trent hesitated. A truthful answer would fit into both categories. The proposal was real, but it was Tobias who had given him the idea of how to do it. Trent chose his words carefully.

"Why would I joke about something this serious?" He asked, running his fingers through her dark hair. "I love you, Juni. You fill the hole in my heart." Trent reached down and gently took hold of her hand that held the ring. He slowly brought the box up in front of their faces and opened it towards Juni. "So I ask you: will you marry me?"

Juni was more than satisfied with his answer. She pulled her body up against Trent's and gave him a very passionate lip-locked kiss. They both then warmly embraced the other in their arms. Juni began to speak softly into Trent's ear.

"Oh, you know I will, Edison," she whispered. "I will, I will, I will…."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Nomad Homesystem

The battleship Osiris sat motionless in the asteroid field that surrounded the hypergate. The single star in the system bathed the ship in a soft green glow, while asteroids slowly spun and tumbled through space. Occasionally one would pass in between the star and ship, casting a dark shadow across the metal hull.

Orillion silently paced the deck of the Osiris' bridge, eying the displays and monitors which his people manned. He preferred to see what was happening first hand, and it helped to reassure him that none of the men or women under his command were possessed.

Orillion continued to pace down the deck until he reached the station manned by Ensign Jennifer Wellington, a young Bretonian woman who ran the Osiris' radar.

"Wellington, give me an update on enemy activity."

Wellington's hands danced lightly about the keyboard. "Sir, no hostiles to report, cloaked or otherwise." She brushed a few strands of blond hair out of her eyes and turned to face her superior. "We may actually have an uneventful day."

Orillion let out a thankful sigh. After months of almost continuous bombardment by the nomads, resistance was finally beginning to thin. The radar system provided by Liberty, one that could detect cloaked ships, had proven itself a life saver time and again. More than once had the nomads tried to approach and cripple the Osiris. The variety of the attacks ranged from simple fighter wings, small invasion forces, and on one memorable occasion, a cloaked nomad battleship had tried to sneak up behind the Osiris and destroy its engines and cloaking device. That had been a close one.

"Good. Keep me notified on any changes," Orillion exclaimed.

"Aye, Sir." Wellington returned her attention to the displays in front of her.

Orillion took a step back and stood at a point that overlooked all the personnel on the bridge. Almost all of those within The Order had been affected by the nomad incursion a year ago. From Corsairs who had encountered the nomads while scrounging for artifacts, to people like Wellington whose entire families had been possessed. Orillion recalled how he had first found out about the alien parasites. He recalled how his C.O., William Orson, his eyes having turned luminous blue, had attacked him, setting into motion the events that helped establish the Order….

Wellington's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir, I'm picking up some strange readings."

"_Dammit,_" Orillion thought. He walked back over to Wellington's station. "Nomads?"

"No, Sir. Indicators show…" Wellington's hands were a blur over the keypad, and a hint of confusion appeared in her voice. "…antimatter explosions." A new window popped up on the station screen and blared for attention. "Sir! Unknown contact appearing beside the nomad city!"

Orillion rushed to a window on the bridge that overlooked the alien structure. There, a ghastly ship, plated in dark red chrome, had appeared. Orillion felt his heart skip a beat. The ship must have been fourteen K long! Several massive fins jutting upwards and downwards from the sides of the thing made it nearly as tall. As Orillion watched, the ship began to slowly move forward as the engines ignited and thick black smoke belched from the rear of the ship.

"_What the hell is _that?" Orillion whispered.

Lieutenant Anthony Carson, who supervised the patrols and fighter wings in the system as well as the status of the battleship, spoke up. "Orillion, sir, the wing commanders want to know if they should attack. Your orders?"

Orillion assessed the situation. "Tell them to hold their fire, but stay alert. Shoot only if whatever that thing is shoots first"

Carson nodded. "Yes, sir." He then keyed the comm. channel and relayed the information. No sooner than the command had gone out when one of the turrets on the red ship warmed and discharged directly at the Osiris. The concentrated energy screamed though space, and closed the 12 K gap between the two ships in a matter of seconds. As luck would have it, a large asteroid tumbled into the path of the orb of destruction and blocked it. The ball of energy detonated on the surface of the asteroid, and the resulting explosion blazed a harsh red as it burned an eight meter deep crater in the surface of the asteroid's surface, before turning black and dissipating. The force of the impact sent the asteroid careening towards the Osiris, where it struck a glancing blow upon the port side. The ship lurched in response and Orillion nearly lost his balance as the deck shifted underneath his feet.

"Carson! Damage report!" Orillion shouted after he had regained his footing.

"Sir, hull breaches on levels six and eight! The ship's framework is damaged!"

"Order all wings to open fire!"

"Yes, sir!" Carson forwarded the message.

Seven dozen Order Anubises changed course to intercept the alien battleship. The red beast aimed its turrets at the incoming attack force and only managed to vaporize two. The turrets were too inaccurate for such small craft.

Orillion focused intently on the battle, and noted with some relief that the red ship could not effectively neutralize the fighters. But if there was anything that he had learned during the nomad war, it was that appearance could be deceiving.

-----

"Fly in loose formation and swerve along your course, boys. Don't give 'em something to hit!" Flight Commander Justin Williams yelled into the comm. as he quickly strafed his Anubis to dodge the energy discharge that the alien battleship had lobbed at him. As he pressed his ship onward, he made the mistake of allowing a wingtip of his Anubis to dip into the inky trail that the orb of energy had left behind. The ship's system alarm went off as it detected electronics failure and lost the firing abilities of one of the guns. Williams swore aloud as he quickly veered away from the contrail. The discharges trailed dark matter?

No time to think about that. Several new ships had suddenly appeared on his radar. Each one was about two-thirds the size of an Eagle, and were plated with the same red chrome as the battleship. Their slanted wings made the fighters resemble a flying X when viewed from in front or behind, with each wing sporting a gun at its tip. The new fighters turned and made to intercept the Order fighters.

Williams broke out of formation and engaged the nearest enemy fighter. He managed to firmly plant himself behind it, the alien fighter being slightly slower and more sluggish in turning. William pounded the ship with his neutron cannons, and nimbly dodged a volley of red death as the fighter swiveled its guns and took aim at him.

Suddenly the fighter glowed red for an instant, then disappeared with a dull _thump_, leaving in its place a small cloud of dark matter.

"What the hell?" Williams asked aloud to no one in particular.

A split second after the fighter disappeared, it reappeared with another _thump_, positioned behind Williams' Anubis. The craft quickly fired all four of its guns at Williams. In a single second, the bursts of energy pounded away Williams' shield, then his hull. The final volley made the Anubis explode into a ball of flame.

-----

"Sir! The ship has some kind of fighter protection! They're taking the Anubises down like flies!" Carson shouted.

"How many fighters?"

Wellington responded, managing to keep a calm voice. "The number of fighters is difficult to count, sir. They keep disappearing from radar. But I estimate that there are between twelve and fifteen enemy fighters, sir."

Orillion shook his head in frustration. Dammit! The Order fighters outnumbered the enemy six to one and yet it was the intruders who were dominating the battlefield!

"Sir, we only have five fighters left!" Carson shouted. "Now four……three…….two…..all of our fighters have been destroyed. Sir, they're changing course, heading straight towards us!"

Orillion felt a pang of fear. "Cloak up. Cloak up now!" he shouted.

Broken blue rings of energy appeared around the Osiris and traveled up and down its lateral lines. Slowly, steadily, the Osiris disappeared from view.

"Give me eighty percent on the engines," Orillion said softly.

The Osiris' engines responded, and the invisible ship began to move forward, away from its position in the asteroid field, moving carefully not to disturb any of the rocks that floated nearby.

Orillion watched on the monitors as red fighters suddenly appeared at the edge of the asteroid field, and then proceeded to enter the field, moving towards the location of where the Osiris had been. Orillion released the breath that he had been holding. It came as a great relief that the alien ships did not have the technology to detect cloaked vessels. But why did they choose to manually enter the asteroid field, instead of just 'magically' appearing near the Osisis' location? It did not make sense to him.

The Osiris activated its cruise engines after it entered open space, and within a few minutes it quietly passed through the opening of the Dyson sphere and locked the entrance.

"Give me a count of enemy casualties," Orillion said.

Wellington's hands played slowly across the keyboard as she accessed the report. "One, sir," she said slowly.

Orillion hung his head. The Order had been suffered a phenomenal defeat. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that he would need some help on this one.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Planet Manhattan, New York System 12 days later

Music softly drifted down from overhead in the Manhattan bar. The music was a descendant of a very old style of song called 'jazz', and a saxophone gave a soft cry through the overhanging speakers as Edison Trent and his fiancé, Jun'ko Zane, finished telling King their marriage plans. King leaned back and put his hands behind his head, smiling.

"It's like I said, the love between you two is like something from fantasy land. So when do you two plan to tie the knot?"

"In six months." Juni replied. She sighed. "We're so busy taking care of everything, it's hard for us to just relax like this," She turned her head to face her future husband, "But all this work will be worth it."

Juni proceeded to clasp her hand around Trent's arm. Trent, however, proceeded to grab his fiancée's ass.

Juni squirmed. "Edison, stop it!" She said lightly, giving him a playful one-armed shove. "Please, not here."

King leaned forward. "What're you two doing?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Nothing." Juni said quickly. King wasn't fooled, though; Trent was grinning from ear to ear.

Juni's data pad sounded, notifying her that she was receiving a call. Juni removed the pad and looked at the caller I.D.

"It's Orillion. Hold on, I'll be right back." Juni Gave Trent a quick peck on the lips, then got up and left the room.

Once again King leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. "Man, I wish I had someone that special."

"C'mon, King," Trent responded. "What about Sinclair?"

"It hasn't been working out," King said glumly.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

A minute later Juni returned to the bar, and Trent noticed that she was walking swiftly.

"Oh-oh," Trent whispered to King. "Something big must have happened."

Juni approached Trent. "Edison, we need to go. Something bad has happened."

Trent decided to push Juni's patience a little. "How bad?"

Juni narrowed her eyes at Trent. "Very bad. We need to leave _now_."

"Alright. See you around, King." Trent got up and left the bar with Juni.

-----

It took a few minutes for Trent to leave the planet surface and exit the docking ring. Juni had gone ahead of him, and was waiting for Trent when he got there.

"Switching to a secure channel," Juni said over the comm. link. A rapid sequence of audible pings quickly followed. "The Osiris is waiting for us in the debris field behind Manhattan. Let's go."

Blue-white fire exploded out of the backs of the Defender and Sabre as the two ships activated their cruise engines and flew around the planet toward a similar waypoint.

"So…" Trent exclaimed," why did Orillion call?"

"Something has happened in the Nomad homesystem," Juni responded.

"What, did the nomads drive them out?"

Juni closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. "They were driven out. But not by nomads."

A small feeling of fear clenched itself inside Trent's chest. "Did he say who? Or what?"

Juni shook her head over the comm. screen. "No. Orillion said that he would brief us further on the Osiris."

Trent and Juni reached the debris field and entered without slowing. 2 k later, and they had reached the waypoint.

Trent looked around. He couldn't see the Osiris. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blue light given off by the battleship's cloaking device as the battleship seemingly materialized out of nothing.

Orillion came over the comm. Colonel Zane, Colonel Trent, its good to see you again. You're clear to dock."

Juni keyed the comm. "Affirmative. Trent, go ahead and dock."

After both fighters disappeared into the ship's underside, broken energy rings once again traveled up and down the ship as it slowly disappeared from view.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Outside Planet Toledo, Omicron Minor System, 9 days later

After many, many hours of meetings where they analyzed video from the first encounter with the new aliens (now dubbed and referred to as Invaders), noting their ship's advantages/disadvantages, and discussing strategies on how to counter and overwhelm their attacks, Juni and Trent now waited just beyond the Toledo docking ring, waiting for the last of the Order Anubises to launch. The engaged couple were both deemed as wing commanders for the mission to take back the hypergate. Now the to-be-wed pair talked to each other as the number of Anubises around Toledo steadily increased.

"I expected Orillion to launch a large force, but nothing like this," Trent exclaimed.

"Yeah. The Order must have reached deep into its pockets to afford this many fighters," Juni said, a flair of concern in her voice. "Especially after their last encounter."

"I count ninety-two fighters. What about you?"

"Ninety-six." Juni shook her head. "Tell me again, Trent. With the strategies we've developed, we should be able to take these guys out with only sixty fighters. Why is Orillion sending so many people?"

Juni was better at social logic, but after Trent's travels in the Border Worlds, he was better with battlefield logic, something that he was somewhat proud of. "I think that Orillion is just trying to make sure that we succeed. This battle will be the most important of any battle, should the fighting continue. If we take back the hypergate now, the Invaders won't be able spread to the other systems."

"I see," Juni said slowly. She smiled into the comm. window. "Thanks for explaining, Edison."

"You're welcome." Trent returned the smile.

As the last fighter finally launched, a voice came over the system-wide comm. channel. "Wing commanders, this is Beta-47. I'm the last one. We can now proceed to the jumpgate."

Trent keyed the system comm. "Roger. All fighters, proceed the nomad jumpgate."

Trent steered his Sabre towards the jumpgate and activated his cruise engines, followed by Juni and the massive fighter contingent. Even with the enormous number of ships to back him up, Trent couldn't help but fell a little nervous. He hated being nervous.

Trent keyed the comm. to Juni. "Are you ready for this?" Trent was more asking himself than Juni.

"Can't say I am," she said nervously. "But Orillion said that the Invaders are locked inside the Dyson sphere, so we shouldn't have any surprises getting to the entrance."

"I hope you're right." Trent dragged the sentence.

As the fighters approached the waypoint, the green nebula withdrew as the ships entered the clearing where the nomad jumpgate was stationed. As they drew closer, Juni sent the ancient structure the activation sequence. Small, white lights outlined the hole in the middle of the gate, followed by a gold light that grew from the center of the opening.

Juni broadcast over the fleet comm. channel. "The jumpgate is activated. All ships dock with the instillation."

Trent's ship rapidly accelerated through the long bright blue tunnel that replaced the pale green of the nebula as he and Juni entered the gate first, followed by the long line of Anubises.

Trent exited the nomad jumpgate facing the entrance to the dyson sphere. It had been a long time since Trent had seen this place. But this time, it felt like it was smaller…

A quick look around gave Trent the very reason why. The area around the jumpgate had been cleared of asteroids, and now it had been sandwiched in between two Invader battleships! He hit the thruster, and the Sabre lurched forward like a demon possessed.

_"Dammit!"_ Trent shouted in his mind. _"How could I miss something like that!"_

Juni and the Anubises started to pour in through the jumpgate. Juni went through the same reaction of surprise as Trent did, and her ship zoomed forward. Nobody wanted to be in between two lethal forces of that magnitude.

Juni quickly established a comm. link to Trent. "Trent, the Invaders were supposed to be locked up. How did they get out here?"

"I don't know!" Trent began to multitask, scanning the surface of the dyson sphere while trying to get the hell away from the battleships. There, Trent found an opening in the sphere and read the data. The hole was where the entrance used to be.

"They've blown out the damn door!" Trent shouted over the comm.

"Shit!"

The Anubises continued to pour out of the jumpgate, and scattered when the pilots saw the battleships. All of them scrambled aimlessly in panic, not knowing what to do. The battleships took advantage of how they all were coming out of the jumpgate, and aimed their weapons at just outside the nomad structure. The alien guns belched, and dozens of Anubises were destroyed as the super-concentrated orbs of dark matter passed over the human ships as they entered the system.

Trent suddenly couldn't think; his mind was in a haze. Disregarding the possible consequences, he located a turret in on one of the battleships, pointed his ship towards the thing, and accelerated towards it, pouring fire down upon the device.

Juni's heart stopped. What the hell was Edison thinking? He was going to get killed! She shouted over the comm. channel. "Edison, what are you doing!"

Trent snapped back to reality and veered away just as the turret discharged. Bright red light filled the cockpit as the blast missed him by only a few feet. Trent knew that he was lucky that had Juni not brought him to his senses; a moment later, and he would have never had enough time to dodge that blast, and he would have surely been dead.

Trent shook his head to clear his mind. He couldn't be making mistakes like this, especially with these guys.

It had barely been a minute, and the number of human ships had already dwindled to half their original number when the Invader fighters began to appear. "_What had taken them so long?_" Trent thought.

Trent and Juni unanimously paired up and engaged the alien fighters as a team, working together to separate one of the shrieking beasts away from its comrades and gun it down. This was especially hard since the fighter would disappear when its pilot realized that it was in trouble. A sequence of misleading cowardice and sudden aggression helped to catch the Invader fighters by surprise long enough to destroy the ship.

Despite their effort, things just went from bad to worse after the Invader fighters engaged the human force. The Order fighters dropped like flies, both Trent and Juni were rapidly running out of shield batteries and nanobots, and the only damage that was done to the Invader capital ships was when they missed their intended targets and accidentally hit each other. Still, the massive ships took each other's fire superbly, and showed no hint of any serious damage done to them.

Juni shouted to Trent over the comm. "Edison, we're losing people left and right!" She shook her head over the visual display panel. "We have no option but to retreat."

Trent looked down at his Sabre's display panel. His shield was barely holding, half of the armor was gone, and he was nearly out of both bots and batteries. With a huff of aggravation, he made his decision and clicked on his comm.

"Affirmitive. All fighters retreat!"

Retreat. That was something that Trent hadn't done in a long time. He had gotten used to winning all of the time.

Trent pointed his ship's nose in the direction of the nomad jumpgate and pushed the throttle forward. The Sabre lurched forward with Juni and what was left of the Order fighters.

Suddenly the Sabre's shield failed and something made severe contact with the hull, making a loud _THUD_ as the ship lurched violently and spun off course. Juni's Defender roared ahead.

"What the hell!" a surprised Trent said aloud. Then as one of the Invader fighters flew over him, Trent realized; one of the S.O.B.s must have rammed him.

Trent mentally brushed the incident aside and concentrated on getting to the jumpgate. Red-hot antimatter hissed by the Sabre as the Invaders continued to fire down upon the retreating human fleet. Trent jammed the throttle up to full.

"C'mon, c'mon" Trent muttered under his breath, trying to coax every ounce of speed out of his ship.

Trent could make out what was left of the human fleet as he approached the jumpgate, and watched as Juni safely enter the gate. One worry down.

At last, he made it. Trent docked with the gate, and was for once relieved to see the blue walls of the tunnel, and didn't mind the intense vibrations.

When he exited the jumphole, he could see the remnants of the human fleet crawling back to Toledo. Juni had stayed behind. "Edison, are you all right?" she asked, worry rolling off her tongue.

"I'm fine, Juni. Thanks for ask-"

An explosion rocked Trent's Sabre. The instrument panel sparked and went black.

"What the hell!" Trent shouted.

Juni came back over the comm. "Edison, are you all right?"

Trent shook his head and tapped the return comm. button. "Yeah, I'm all right." He checked his instrument panel. "Everything's shut down though. The only thing still working is the comm. system"

Trent tapped the engine ignition key. No response. He tapped it again, and then a third time, but the engines refused to ignite.

_"Dammit," _he thought. Trent sent a comm. signal to Juni. "Jun'ko, I need a tow. You think you can help me?"

Juni smirked over the display panel "What? _You_ need help?" she said sarcastically. "That's kind of backwards, isn't it?"

After losing the fight with the Invaders, Trent wasn't in the mood to play games. "Are you going to help or not?" he replied with a serious tone.

"Don't worry, of course I am," Juni said with a smile.

Juni lined up her Defender with Trent's Sabre and attached the padded claw of her tow cable onto the Sabre's segmented nose, linking the two ships together. Juni gave power to the engines, and the coupled ships began to move towards planet Toledo.

After Trent's ship had been safely settled onto the landing pad, Trent finally got a look at his Sabre.

"Aw, hell!" Trent shouted with great anger.

Almost the entire back end of the Sabre had been totally destroyed. Blackened metal outlined the destroyed area, with charred cables, sizzling fiber optics, and burst fuel lines that had spilled out of the wound, with their trailing ends piled on top of each other on the landing pad. The cargo hold had been breached. Half of the lower engine had been destroyed. However the upper engine, along with the shield and thruster, were missing altogether.

Juni was pondering to herself about the battle as she exited her Defender and stepped onto the landing pad.

_"…or what if when they disappeared, they reappeared in a different place? That would mean that they can teleport themselves…"_ Juni shuddered. It must be such an ability that gave the Invaders such a horrendous advantage.

The shouting of her enraged fiancé caught her attention. She focused her attention on Trent, and then followed his gaze to the gaping hole in his Sabre.

"Uh-oh," she whispered to herself.

Juni knew that Trent loved his ship. Heck, he loved that ship almost as much as he loved her. Seeking to comfort him, she strolled up to Trent and stepped in front of him and succeeded in bringing his focus onto her. The two made eye contact. Standing on her toes, Juni gingerly kissed Trent on the lips.

"Don't worry," Juni said in a soothing voice, "You can fix it."

In response to Juni's soothing complexion, Trent felt relief spreading throughout his body. He felt calm, more relaxed.

"I know," Trent sighed, "but I won't be able to replace the shield." He turned around and looked towards the ground, deep in thought. "It'll take me months to get my hands on another one like it."

Satisfied that she had done her job, Juni smiled and patted Trent on the shoulder. "Come on, Edison. I think I know someone who needs a drink."

Trent turned around and looked Juni in the eyes. He too, smiled. "You know, I think you're right."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Battleship Relentless, Nomad Homesystem. 6 hours later.

News of the human attack had spread like wildfire throughout Invader-controlled territory. Not surprisingly so, since the teleportation technology at the Invader's disposal allowed them to move great distances almost instantaneously. By the time six hours had passed, Selestren-Kulam had been informed of the battle and Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo had been sent to supervise the discovery of the system to which the humans had retreated.

Currently Nalemo was engaged in a heated argument with Orad-Porel, captain of the battleship Relentless.

"Your seekers have yet to return, what kind of crew you are you commanding here!"

Nalemo's voice echoed throughout the cavernous docking bay. This chamber, easily the largest room in the entire ship, held roughly three hundred fighters. With no hatch, fighter pilots relied on teleportation to move in and out of the bay.

Orad growled and flexed his powerful claws, his anger starting to get the best of him. "I command the best of the best. The tracking device was deployed, and I am confident that it found its target." Orad leaned toward Nalemo, as if challenging his authority. "My seekers _will_ triangulate the return signal." Orad leaned further towards Nalemo, and extended his legs. He was now _definitely_ challenging the smaller alien's authority. "This military campaign _WILL_ continue!"

Nalemo knew better than to start picking a fight with this guy. Most Invaders could rip the arm off of a fellow comrade, and with Nalemo's weaker body structure, Orad could not only dismember a limb, he could break Nalemo's body in two.

Deciding not to anger the captain further, Nalemo decided to back off. "You had better be right. You have no idea what Selestren-Kulam will do to us if your seekers can't triangulate that signal."

_BOOM-BOOM-BOOM_. Three fighters appeared in the docking bay. The din was incredible, and was further amplified as the noise echoed throughout the massive chamber. Nalemo immediately covered his ears, his face wrenched in pain. Orad-Porel merely flinched; most combat veterans were hard of hearing, a condition brought on by the Invader's own loud technology.

Once the deafening roar had faded away, each fighter opened and the pilots stepped out. They spotted their superior and began jog over to him. Orad-Porel turned to face the pilots.

"See?" Orad muttered to Nalemo out of the corner of his mouth. "My seekers return."

Once the pilots came to a stop in front of Orad, all three kneeled down, tucking their heads into their chests to expose the back of their necks. A proper salute.

"Sir, your seekers have come to report," said the Invader in the middle.

Orad allowed himself a slight smile. "Rise, and tell of your finds."

The trio arose, and the middle Invader continued to speak. "Sir, you will be pleased to know that we have successfully triangulated the tracker signal."

Orad looked at Nalemo out of the corner of his eye. "I told you my men would succeed!" he exclaimed with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Nalemo ignored Orad's gloating.

Orad-Porel returned his attention to the seekers. "Did the device complete its cycle?"

The middle seeker absentmindedly straightened the hair growing down his sides as he responded. "Yes sir. Soon after we received the tracker's signal, an energy wave passed through the system, having originated at the same coordinates as the tracker. This is surely a result of the device's self-destruction." The seeker handed Orad a small piece of parchment. "Here are the coordinates and environment information."

Orad silently plucked the parchment from the seeker's grasp and read the information in it. He laughed a low, guttural laugh. "Good. Seekers, you are dismissed."

Without a word, the three seekers headed in unison for the docking bay exit. Orad turned to Nalemo. "Go; tell Selestren-Kulam of the find. Bring back his word to advance the battle group," Orad took a step closer to Nalemo and lowered his voice, "And I will bring him a victory."

Orad-Porel abruptly turned and made off for the exit, leaving Nalemo with nothing to do but return to his ship and depart.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Planet Toledo, Omicron Minor System

Juni and Trent had were interrupted in the middle of their drinks to participate in a meeting that Orillion was holding to further discuss what the Order could do about the Invaders. Now the two colonels were walking down the hall to the research lab, where the meeting was taking place.

As they reached the lab door at the end of the hall, both Trent and Juni were stopped by a woman dressed in garbs that signified her participation in the Order. She was a very tall woman, probably around six-foot five, with a stern face, in her mid-fifties with graying hair. She was probably a Corsair in her earlier days.

"Identification." She spoke with a very serious voice.

Juni pulled out her ID first and flashed it toward the other woman, who quickly scanned it with a well-trained eye. She saluted.

"Colonel Zane, you may proceed. Commander Orillion is expecting you.

"Thank you." Juni pocked her ID card and proceeded through the door. Trent stepped forward, showed his card and also received a salute.

"Colonel Trent, you may proceed."

Trent entered the research lab.

Like much of the rest of the base, the walls here were coated with a silver-gray alloy that was traditional of libertarian technology. There were tables and shelves strategically scattered throughout the large enclosure, upon which rested books, papers, scientific equipment, alien artifacts, and sitting on one certain table mounted against the wall, a glass case which Trent saw contained a nomad parasite, probably the one which had taken Chancellor Niemann as its host.

Trent approached the table where six other people were gathered, including a corsair, and a bounty hunter, a Blood Dragon, as well as Juni and Kendra Sinclair, now one of the leading scientists of the Order. Trent approached the table and stood in between Juni and Sinclair, exchanging nods. He vaguely wondered just how well Kendra and King's relationship actually was.

Orillion was obviously very agitated by the Order's monumental defeats at the hands of the Invaders. He had become somewhat fidgety, and was now susceptible to fits of anger. The majority of his forces had been destroyed within two weeks! Great pilots were unanimously slaughtered when their wits and cunning were overpowered by brute force!

Orillion took a quick glance at Trent and Juni. At least his two best pilots were still with him. He was thankful for that.

Orillion took a deep breath and began the meeting. "Now that everybody is here, we will discuss our…" Orillion paused, carefully choosing his words. "…Problem, with the Invaders." Orillion stared at the attentive faces of his soldiers. He hated when he had to admit that a foe had the upper hand, which was especially true in this case. "Does anyone have a lead that will help to even the odds?"

For Juni, this was the best time to suggest her theory. "Sir," she started, "I may have an idea about their technology."

Everybody gave Juni their full attention as she began to reveal her hypothesis.

"I believe that the Invaders have acquired teleportation technology. I think that's the reason why they suddenly disappear and reappear in battle."

There was a murmur of approval among the table.

Sinclair objected. "That's impossible! No living thing can survive the matter-antimatter explosion required to pull off such a feat! Not to mention the unspeakably large amount of power required!"

"That may be true," Orillion said, "But the idea that they teleport fits the known data. But even so…" Orillion thought back to his first encounter with the Invaders, "That doesn't explain why they only flew into the asteroid field during the first attack."

"Maybe they didn't want to make a mistake and teleport into an asteroid?" Trent said, half guessing.

There were more murmurs of approval, and Orillion beamed at Trent. "Great observation, Colonel Trent! This will give us a huge advantage."

"Oh… thanks." Trent was surprised that his guess was right.

Suddenly the communications speaker burped static, followed by an urgent voice. "Commander Orillion! An Invader battleship has appeared beside the Nomad jumpgate!"

"Go to code red! Evacuate the station!" Orillion shouted back.

"Aye, Sir!" The speaker clicked off.

Orillion dismissed everyone at the table, minus Trent and Jun'ko. He then turned his attention to his two Colonels. "We don't have enough fighters left to drive them off. We have to get everyone that is left away from here. I want you to protect the transports out of here."

"Yes, Sir!" Juni saluted.

Trent looked at his fiancée. _"Dammit, how can she mindlessly agree to these suicide missions?"_ Nevertheless, he wasn't about to let his future wife be taken away from him. He needed to go with her, to cover her back.

Orillion swiftly moved from behind the table. "I'm coming with you on this one. Let's go! Quickly!"

"I hope my Sabre has been repaired," Trent said to himself as the trio ran out of the room.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Nomad Jumpgate, Omicron Minor System

The bridge on the Invader battleship Relentless was quite different than those found on the battleships in human fleets. There were no windows, for reasons regarding security and structural integrity. To compensate, large monitors that displayed the ship's surroundings were mounted on the walls above simplistic instrument panels. Everything was dirty. The floor and walls were smeared with grease, grime, hair, and even splatters of yellow blood where two rival crew members had brutishly engaged each other a few weeks back.

Orad-Porel carelessly spat a rather large gob of saliva onto the deck as he surveyed the monitors. He had not waited for orders to advance the battle group. His eagerness, if not his impatience, had gotten the better of him. This action was against regulations, and he would probably be punished for it, but who knew? If his decision brought a strategic victory, he might be given an exception, maybe even praised.

Through the monitors, Orad-Porel spotted a trail of lights that led into the nebula – the navigation buoys to Planet Toledo. Orad allowed himself a quick thought of how stupid the humans were to do such a thing, and then gave the order to follow the lights. As the engines were ignited, the lights on the bridge dimmed for several seconds before returning to their normal glare, and the deck trembled as the massive ship began to move.

-----

Trent, Juni, and Orillion raced across the landing pad to their ships. As Trent neared his ship, he saw that two engineers standing beside it – the repair crew that he had ordered earlier. Trent ran up to them. "Is my ship fixed?"

The engineer of the left, somewhat distracted by the current situation, began to speak rapidly. "We've been working at full speed, sir." The engineer was obviously eager to leave. "Most of the ship's been fixed. You have two new engines, a new shield and thruster, but the cargo hold is still ruptured."

"It'll have to do. Go, get out of here!"

"Yessir!" said the engineer without hesitation. He shot Trent a salute and quickly ran off.

Juni and Orillion had already taken off by the time that Trent climbed the ladder into the Sabre's cockpit. He closed the hatch, unlocked the controls, and pushed the ignition key. He heard the reactor whine as it heated the H-fuel within its chambers, followed by the sensation of the entire ship shuddering as the reactor began produce plasma. A quick diagnostic proved that all of the Sabre's new components had taken. Trent disengaged the levitation pad and headed out into space along with the stragglers who had lagged behind.

-----

Juni exited the docking ring shortly after Orillion and positioned her ship a short distance from the planet. The transports were beginning to depart, heading to the Osiris hidden somewhere in the surrounding nebula. She noticed with much relief that the Invaders had yet to arrive. But she also noted with dismay that there were only a few other fighters.

"We need to hold off the Invaders as long as we can, Colonel Zane."

"Roger that, sir."

Juni activated her long range sensors and scanned for approaching ships. The scan came up negative. But she knew that they had to be coming.

Juni ran the scanner again. There - an Invader fighter, coming out of the nebula. Juni held her position; if she flew out to attack it, it could teleport around her and attack the transports. She didn't want that to happen.

An Invader battleship emerged from the giant chlorine nebula, forcing the noxious green gas to billow outwards as the massive ship pushed it aside. More fighters came out of the nebula. All of them were headed directly for the planet.

Orillion keyed the system-wide comm. "Good luck to us all."

"Good Luck," Juni responded.

No sooner than Juni had closed her comm. channel that she heard a _THUMP_, and an Invader fighter appeared to her right. She took evasive maneuvers, working her Defender to get behind the alien ship before it got a chance to counter her attack. But before Juni was able to take down the fighter, it disappeared with its characteristic red flash and audible boom. Another _THUMP_ and a second fighter popped into existence above her. It turned and pounded away at her shields, which quickly dissipated. Juni felt her ship lurch violently as one of the shots impacted upon her ship's hull. The alien guns cycled again, and antimatter ate away at the Defender once more. The ship groaned in agony as its frame began to buckle. This dogfight was a death match, and it seemed pretty apparent who was going to emerge victorious.

-----

An impatient Edison Trent at long last emerged form the docking ring, ready to fight for the survival of the retreating humans – and his fiancée. Even though be believed he was prepared for the worst, he was not prepared for what he saw.

"Holy f---!"

The space around Toledo was utter chaos. The Invaders had already arrived, and were currently in the process of whittling the defending forces down into nothing. Trent took a moment to survey the fleeing transports, and was relieved by what he saw: none of the transports were under attack. The Invaders were too busy to pay any attention to them.

A panicked voice came though Trent's comm. "Edison! Help Me!"

"Jun'ko!" Trent said to himself.

Trent scanned the ship ID tags and located Juni's Defender. Trent saw that it was in bad shape, and that was all he needed to know.

"Hang on, Juni, I'm coming!"

Trent punched the accelerator and raced towards Juni's location. As he got closer, he noticed that she was under attack by an Invader fighter. Trent lined up his ship with the alien craft, took careful aim, and slammed the trigger. His guns rained fire down upon the oddly shaped fighter and exploded upon its hull, burrowing into its greasy insides. A critical component was hit, knocking out the ship's entire power grid. The ship spun wildly out of control, trailing black smoke as its own inertia carried it to the center of the battle, where it was found by stray mine. The mine overcame the ex-fighter's speed, made physical contact, and blew itself to kingdom come, taking the alien craft with it. With the immediate threat gone, Juni finally had the chance to deploy nanobots, which she did gladly.

Juni sighed with relief over the comm. channel. "Thanks, Edison."

Orillion suddenly came over the comm. "To all ships, retreat into the nebula. Fly to a random vector, and then change course to the Osiris.

"Affirmative," Juni said. "Edison, see you at the rendezvous."

"Alright." Trent closed the channel.

With all the transports successfully hidden in the nebula, it was time for the fighters to disengage and remove themselves from the battle with best speed. All the remaining fighters broke off their attacks and fled the scene in all different directions. Once well hidden in the nebula, they turned and headed for the Osiris. Once they had all docked, the Osiris activated its cloaking device and disappeared.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Battleship Osiris, Omicron Minor System.

The docking bay of the Osiris was crammed with so many ships that Trent found it difficult to navigate between them. He doubted that there was room for even one more. After some wandering, he finally found a wall and followed it to the main exit. Juni was already there, conversing with Orillion. Trent picked up on their conversation as he approached.

"…I understand your intentions, sir, but is there a way we can do it without throwing everyone into a panic?"

"I think that a mass panic is practically unavoidable now, colonel. But for now, I think that we should only notify the leaders of the houses."

Juni sighed. "Yes, sir." Out of the corner of her eye, Juni saw Trent approaching and beckoned him over.

"So, what're we going to do now?" Trent asked as he joined the conversation.

"There's not much we can do, Colonel Trent," Orillion started, "but for the moment we are going to notify the houses of these 'Invaders'." He took a breath and looked at his two trustworthy supporters. "We are going to take a nearby jumphole to Omicron Theta and dock with Freeport 9. Once there, my people will contact the Leaders of the houses, including the Outcasts and Corsairs." A look of worry crossed Orillion's face. "We need all the help we can get."

-----

Orad-Porel stood on the bridge, looking in disgust at the retreating human fleet. The stupid cowardly S.O.B.s, why didn't they stay and fight? Anybody could take the easy way out and run away, but what good would that do? That just made them fish in a shrinking barrel. But still, Orad thought, the worms might prove themselves to be an enemy worthy of a challenge. Their retreat had proven to be quite ingenious. With every ship fleeing in a different direction, they had given no hint of there they were going. While this would slow Orad's pursuit, it would not stop it. There were people on his ship that knew how to find out were the humans had gone.

Orad-Porel's mulling was interrupted when he heard the bridge door open behind him. There was a pause, followed a slow, steady _THUD…THUD…_ Orad felt the deck tremble slightly in unison with the heavy rhythm, which only lasted for four repetitions. Another pause, and a deep, growling voice uttered a single word.

"Sir"

Orad-Porel knew all too well who had just stepped onto the bridge. He turned around and found himself looking at the massive figure kneeling in salute that was Rames-Une-Teral. Only a few years younger than Orad-Porel, Rames was an utter behemoth. Measuring more than thirteen feet from head to toe, the soldier was almost twice as tall as an Invader of average height. He had proven to be an accomplished soldier on several occasions, and while Rames was not an official messenger, Orad preferred to have him deliver news. It made Orad feel smug to know that he controlled a being so large.

Growing up, Rames had always been tall for his age, but as other Invaders his age reached maturity and attained their full height, Rames just kept growing…and growing…and growing. His height steadily increased over time, and continued to the present day. The reason for Rames' continuous growth was unknown, and what medics there were could not diagnose the problem (the Invader society was not very advanced in the medical field; a human doctor could have quickly found that Rames' excessive growth was directly related to a cancerous pituitary gland).

A slight smile trickled across Orad-Porel's face as he allowed Rames to rise. The soldier was so tall that he had to stoop forward to prevent his head from hitting the ceiling.

Orad spoke with deliberate slowness. "Tell me, Rames-Une-Teral, on what occasion do you come to see me?"

Rames' rumbling voice filled the room. "Sir, the landing crew is ready to descend onto the planet." Rames pointed to a display screen that displayed planet Toledo within its borders. Orad paid no attention to this act. "They wish to know when they can land on the planet."

Orad-Porel rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Tell them they have my permission to leave immediately. You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Rames acknowledged the order.

Orad turned away and returned his attention to the display screens, until he realized that Rames had not budged from his spot. Orad turned around again. "Is there something else you wanted to say?"

Rames' face showed no expression. "Yes, sir. Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo, a representative of Master Selestren-Kulam, is here, sir. He wishes to speak with you."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system

Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo was furious that Orad-Porel had moved the fleet without orders.

"What the names of the almighty gods were you thinking when you made such a rash decision, Orad-Porel!"

"I was thinking about victory," replied Orad. The captain had had experience with angry superiors before, and knew how to deal with them, keeping his answers short and to the point. With luck, he would be able to quickly weasel himself out of trouble.

Nalemo glared into Orad's eyes. "Victory? Victory is not an excuse to shrug off orders and regulations. Although you might have achieved victory here, the actions you took to achieve it pose as a risk to our customs and society."

_"Hmm,"_ Orad-Porel thought, _"He's a lot smarter than he looks."_ Most of Orad-Porel's superiors would not have seen such risks and would have agreed that victory was all that mattered._ "I need to change the direction that this argument is headed."_

"Sir?" Orad interrupted, "are you familiar with the battle code?"

Nalemo eyed Orad warily. "Of course I'm familiar with the battle code. _Everybody_ is familiar with the battle code. What about it?"

Orad scratched his neck thoughtfully. "The battle code states that orders and regulations should be followed to the letter." A grin slowly spread across his elongated head. "But does the battle code not also state that there is no place for chivalry in battle?"

Nalemo opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. He saw where Orad was coming from. For the topic at hand, these two parts of the code conflicted with each other. He had never noticed that.

"You see what I mean?" said a confident Orad-Porel. "If I had stayed and waited for the orders to pursue the humans, they would be given time to regroup while we sat here and did _nothing_. That would be chivalry. As for the decision that I made, I prevented them from regrouping, although I failed to follow regulations. And if you want MY opinion," Orad added, crossing his arms, "I believe I made the wiser choice."

Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo closed is eyes and sighed. Orad-Porel had just proven that he was much more intelligent than Nalemo had suspected. "Very well," he finally said. "I will tell Master Selestren-Kulam that your punishment is null. However, tell your men that this example is NOT to be followed. You are dismissed."

-----

"This is Freeport 9 to unknown vessel. Identify yourself," said the female docking officer to the Osiris.

"This is Orillion, captain of the Order battleship Osiris. We are in dire need to moor with your station, over."

There was a pause. "Roger that, Osiris. One moment, hold your position, over." The comm. link fell silent.

Orillion shook his head. No doubt that the docking officer was discussing with her superior of what to do with Orillion's request. Like all other factions, the Zoners knew little about the Order. Would they be a threat to the station? How would the Bounty Hunters react to their presence? Orillion knew all too well that the houses had a very large bounty on his head, so it was very likely that he would not be leaving the ship during the time that was here. After the war with the nomads, the silence of the governments about the Order made no change to the public outlook on the faction that saved all of Sirius from genocide.

The comm. system came back to life. "Order ship Osiris, you are clear for moor 1, over."

"Roger that, Freeport 9. Over and out." Orillion was relieved that the Zoners were giving him hospitality. Now that that issue was taken care of, Orillion ran a mental checklist of what he had to do. He had already posted guards at the jumphole to Omicron Minor, so he would quickly be notified of any alien hostiles. Now he needed to contact the leaders of the houses and criminal elements, and maybe some old friends…

-----

Rames-Une-Teral stepped off the landing boat and onto the snow-covered ground near a now-abandoned human base on the planet Toledo. He took a deep breath of air, filling his lungs with its aroma. The air here smelled so fresh, he thought. This world, so much smaller than the Invaders' home planet, was starting to feel like a paradise. The gravity here was so much smaller than what Rames was used to. He was so large that the gravity he was familiar with was always straining on his body. But here, he felt so light. He took a step forward, enjoying sensation of just how little energy it took to move. He looked at the other Invaders around him, and saw that they were taking the pleasure of microgravity to its fullest. Here, they could run almost twice as fast as before, and jump as high as four times their own height! Everyone was energetic here.

The wind started blowing slightly, and a strange, yet familiar smell wafted from the human base and into Rames' nose. It smelled like meat. He loved meat. Evolution had shown the Invaders to be carnivores with ferocious appetites, and the smell of food sent Rames-une-Teral in a steady run, his purple tongue running over his sharp teeth as he approached the source of the sweet odor. By this time the other Invaders had detected the aroma, and were also approaching the human base. Rames smiled as he sped ahead of them. He wanted the food first.

As Rames stepped onto the landing pad, he narrowed the source of the smell down to a vent in the rock wall located on the east side of the base (This vent led to the kitchens, where a box of red meats that was being prepared for an Outcast celebration had fallen from its resting place on the table, spilling its contents onto the floor). Keeping the other Invaders at bay, Rames ripped off the vent cover and peered eagerly inside, hoping to find what he sought. But there was nothing there. Not to be disappointed, Rames thrust his muscular arm into the vent, hoping that the food was only a little farther back. Nothing. Now Rames was getting mad. He began tearing away at the vent opening, widening the hole. Once the vent opening was large enough, Rames stuck his nose inside and sniffed. The meat was definitely down there, but there was no way that he would be getting to it from here. Rames withdrew his nose from the vent and started searching for another way into the base.

It wasn't long before Rames found several other Invaders attempting to break down the main doors of the underground fortification with no success. Rames approached, smiling. Without a word, he pushed the other Invaders out of the way, crouched down, and aimed a left hook at the door. Flesh and bone met metal with a loud BANG, and the door started to give way. Another punch and the doors were seriously deformed. Satisfied that the doors were sufficiently weakened, Rames-Une-Teral grasped their edges and peeled them away. Rames quickly entered the base, searching for the meat that he desired. It wasn't long before he picked up the scent, and after tearing down doors and shoving objects out of his way, he soon found himself in the kitchen, staring at the red slices of flesh that he has sought. Rames picked up the meat and began to tear chunks out of the food, and for once he had no work, no duties, no worries…this WAS a paradise.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Omicron Minor Jumphole, Omicron Theta system. 2 days later

Jessica Palimer was one of the two Order fighters that floated silently among the asteroids beside the jumphole to Omicron Minor. Needless to say, she was incredibly bored. She was three hours into her shift, and there was no sign of the Invaders. Her eyes were so tired; Jessica leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, just to rest them for a bit, but her consciousness started to fade…

"Don't fall asleep on me, Jessica."

Jessica's eyes fluttered back open. Sleepily, she leaned forward and pressed the comm. button. "Thanks Drew."

"Anytime." The comm. clicked off.

Drew and Jessica Palimer were siblings, and anyone that saw how they interacted with each other could easily see that fact. From the start, they had always been inseparable. They had grown up together, graduated from school together, and had found similar jobs in the Liberty Navy before they came to the Order after the nomad incursion. Although they didn't always act the same, they always knew what the other was thinking. And right now, Drew could tell that Jessica was about to doze off.

Jessica sat up and lightly slapped her face to keep herself stimulated. It was essential for her to stay awake. Trying to keep herself busy, Jessica ran another scan on the jumphole. The resulting data showed that the anomaly was phase-aligned, but the gravitational fluctuations were well within the idle range. Nothing was about to come through. Jessica sighed and opened a comm. link to her brother across the way.

"Hey… Drew?" Jessica said into the microphone. What she got in response was only an audible grunt, but she knew that he was listening, and continued to speak. "I was wondering… what's going to happen if the Invaders keep advancing like this? What's going to happen to us?"

There was silence over the comm., and then Jessica heard Drew speak. "It's a possibility that the remaining sleeper ships could be launched to start a new colony elsewhere. But they can only carry twenty thousand people. Even with the three ships that remain, they can hold barely a fraction of the total Sirius population. Everyone else will have to stay behind."

Jessica let out an aggravated sigh. "Man, this war reeks. I never knew that fights could be so one-sided." Suddenly a thought hit her. "Do you think that they could be the Dom Kavash?"

"I have no idea, but I have a feeling that they aren't Dom Kavash. I mean, if you look at the technology… hang on." Drew's scanner had just blared a warning. Drew's eyes grew wide. "Energy levels inside the jumphole just spiked. Something's coming through!"

Jessica woke up rather quickly after hearing that. She bolted upright in her seat and charged her weapon systems, intently focused on the jumphole. It wasn't long before she saw a small red ship emerge.

"I see it! Moving in!" Jessica shouted as her ship automatically tagged the alien craft.

Drew and Jessica had been given standing orders to kill anything that came through the jumphole, and kill they did. The tiny ship didn't stand a chance as it was struck down by tendrils of fire that erupted from the Order fighters. After a few seconds of continuous bombardment, the ship was out of commission, floating dead in space.

Drew was ecstatic. "Ha-ha-ha! Looks like somebody just lost their bragging rights!"

Jessica smiled at her brother in the comm. window. "Alright, calm down Drew. We need to call someone to tow this thing out of here and have a look at it. This could be a key to turn this war around."

"Huh? Oh, right, I'll call the tow." Drew terminated the comm. link and opened a channel to the Osiris. "Osiris, this Order guard team one-dash-two…"

While Drew arranged for the dead craft to be carried away, Jessica analyzed a three-dimensional model of the alien fighter that her ship's computer had compiled. This type of craft was new to her. Although it sported the characteristic red chrome armor of the Invader fighters and battleships, it had no weapons, an engine that was small considering the ship's size, and thrusters that provided very limited maneuverability. Even its shape was out of context; it lacked the sharp fins that were found on other Invader ships, and its enlarged midsection gave it an appearance similar to that of an overfed fish.

The sound of Jessica's control panel blaring an alert caught its pilot's attention. The ships sensors had detected an energy spike over twelve-hundred R.E.L.s coming from the downed alien vessel.

Jessica, worried about what was going to happen, backed her ship away and opened a comm. channel to Drew. "Drew, something's happening to the ship."

Drew didn't respond. He was still talking to the Osiris. Meanwhile, the energy spike had increased to twenty-nine-hundred R.E.L.s.

"Drew, do you hear me? We should get away from the ship." Still no response. The spike continued to climb faster and faster. When the spike reached forty-three-hundred R.E.L.s, a red glow inside the crippled ship could bee seen though the gashes in its hull. Jessica frantically hailed her brother.

"Drew, please hear me! Get away from here now!" she pleaded.

When the energy level inside the ship reached sixty-five-hundred R.E.L.s, the light from inside had brightened to a brilliant red, and an explosion was imminent. Jessica knew that she had to do something to save her brother. Slamming down the throttle, she roared towards her brother's idle ship with the intention to push it to safety. But her heroism came too late.

The mysterious alien craft exploded with the force of a small nuclear bomb. All that Jessica could see was a blinding white light as her shields flared in the blast before they collapsed an instant later. Her Anubis was pushed back violently, and Jessica's head snapped forward and slammed into the instrument panel. The impact knocked her out.

When Jessica finally came to, she was slumped forward on her seat her, head resting on the instrument panel. As she pulled up her head, a sudden pain in her forehead made her wince. While Jessica was unconscious, blood had trickled out of a large cut in her forehead and had ended up fusing the wound to the instrument panel as it dried. The cut resumed bleeding as the fresh scab was painfully removed. Jessica held a hand to her bleeding forehead and looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.

"The ship…Drew…" Jessica was instantly overcome by a wave of panic. Drew! Jessica snapped upright and activated her comm. system, which thankfully was still working. "Drew! Are you there? Answer me!" Only static came through. Jessica prayed that only Drew's comm. system was down. She tried to scan for her brother's ship, only to discover that the sensory equipment was nonfunctional. Now desperate, she ignited her engines and after a few attempts, managed to turn them over. Her damaged ship emitted a warning that the fuel tank was leaking and reported multiple breaches in the hull, but Jessica ignored it. She gently fed the engines and was rewarded when her Anubis started to move forward.

The explosion had pushed everything away from around the jumphole, leaving a large clearing that was only occupied by a thin layer of dark matter. Jessica slowly drifted around the perimeter of this area, looking for any signs of Drew. As she approached the charred face of a particularly large asteroid, she saw something glint on its carbonized surface.

"Oh god, please, no…" Jessica pleaded as she moved closer. But to great anguish, her suspicions were confirmed.

The force of the explosion had sent Drew's fighter careening into the asteroid, crushing it on impact. The cockpit had been totally destroyed and the fighter had broken into hundreds of pieces and were scattered across the surface of the asteroid. But Jessica didn't see any of this. All that she saw was her brother's lifeless body laying next the obliterated ship. Even from this distance, Jessica could see the tears in the fabric of the vac suit and the jagged holes in the reflective visor…

Jessica was undoubtedly a very strong-spirited woman. She had coped with the loss of her friends, her coworkers, and her relatives, but now, with the loss of her brother, she was no longer able to contain emotions that had been welling up in her for the past three weeks. She brought her ship to a stop and finally, at long last, broke down and cried.

-----

"Lord Hakkera, you are clear to dock. Welcome back," said the Osiris docking officer to the approaching Sabre.

"Thank you, Osiris. Hakkera out." The aging Order informant terminated the transmission.

Lord Hakkera had received an urgent transmission from Orillion only a few days before, telling him to report to Omicron Theta. What Orillion was doing there, Hakkera had no idea, but the tone of his superior's voice had been filled with concern, worry, and irritation. Hakkera had wasted no time departing from Kusari and had been flying almost nonstop to the Edge Worlds. The whole trip had taken almost forty hours and Hakkera was exhausted. Still, he managed to stave off sleep; he simply had too much on his mind to allow himself such a luxury.

Hakkera's ship disappeared into the Osiris' docking bay, went through a pressurization chamber, and moved onto the ship hold, setting down comfortably between a freighter and cargo ship. The ship hold was much less crowded now; many of the transports had been moved to Freeport 9. By the ships Hakkera saw, we wasn't the only notable pilot aboard the Osiris; to his left, he saw colonel Trent's Sabre, bristling with advanced weaponry. And near the chambers exit, the tail fin of colonel Zane's modified Defender was hard to miss.

Lord Hakkera shut down the reactor and exited the cockpit, descending the Sabre's retracting ladder down to the cold metal floor. Now with his feet firmly on the deck, the aging Order affiliate let out a half yawn, half sigh, and looked up at his trusty ship. Hakkera knew that he was getting old, and climbing up and down that ladder was starting to become a chore. He would have to modify the ladder soon and change it into a small moving platform.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Hakkera's attention. He turned around and saw a middle-aged Rheinland woman approach with her head held low, staring at the floor in front of her. Hakkera did not move as the woman came to a stop in front of him. She stood there, unmoving for a few moments before she took a deep breath and brought her head up, finally looking the old Kusari native in the face with a face that was straining to hide the troubles that hid behind it. She saluted.

"Lord Hakkera," she started, "welcome aboard. Commander Orillion has asked me to escort you to briefing room 2A. Please if you will… follow me."

Lord Hakkera didn't know what to say the saddened woman, so he merely nodded. He followed the Rheinlander silently, worrying about what had happened to the woman. From what he knew, Rheinlanders had hardened attitudes; nothing ever seemed to faze them. What kind of situation could be painful enough to move a Rheinlander to the verge of tears like the woman he was following? A sudden realization came to Hakkera: It probably had something to do with why the Osiris had fled Omicron Minor.

The Rheinland woman finally in front of a door marked _Brief 2A_. Bringing her hand to a small keypad on the wall, she entered a command into the device and the door silently slid open. She then turned to face Hakkera and slowly saluted him. Hakkera returned the gesture and walked through the door, which closed behind him.

The room was practically bare, save for the large grey table that stood in the middle of the floor. At the end of the table sat Orillion, holding a small glass of Edinburgh scotch, with the bottle sitting a short distance away. Orillion looked up and gave Hakkera a weary smile, motioning for him to take a seat. Lord Hakkera sat down beside his commander.

"I didn't know that you drank," Hakkera said, a look of concern on his face.

"Just to calm my nerves," Orillion said reassuringly. He brought the drink to his lips and poured it down his throat. Setting the glass down, Orillion turned towards Hakkera with a serious look on his face. "I suppose you should know why I told you to come here."

Hakkera nodded, recalling that his commander never told him about the problem at hand when he had been contacted.

Orillion sighed. "Let me start at the beginning…" Orillion then proceeded to tell Hakkera about the Invaders and their dramatic sweep through the Omicrons so far. It was obvious that Orillion was very worried; during his speech, he inadvertently stood up and started pacing around the room, and only realized it when he finished talking.

Lord Hakkera was both worried and angry. He had never seen Orillion like this before. In every situation that he had encountered, Orillion had known exactly what to do. But now, the man who had saved Sirius, the man who had taken the fight to the nomads and won… was helpless. But Hakkera was still angry at Orillion. Why hadn't Orillion called him earlier? Hakkera could have done something.

"Why didn't you call for assistance earlier!" Hakkera demanded.

Orillion gave a hopeless shrug. "I don't know…they overcame us so quickly…I didn't know what to do."

Hakkera came to a realization; he understood. How could a man in Orillion's position think straight when an unexpected threat decimated the majority of your forces as soon as it appeared? Such events in history had shown that even the most knowledgeable people were left lost and confused. Hakkera saw this, and he was now left to hope that Orillion would recover soon, before these so-called 'Invaders' could push further into the colonies.

Hakkera put a reassuring hand on Orillion's shoulder. "Who else have you called, besides me?"

Orillion delved into his mind, and remembered those he had contacted. "I have notified the houses, and President Jacobi has already agreed to aid as necessary. The leaders of the other houses are having trouble believing my story, but I hope that they will be swayed soon. I have also contacted the Outcasts and Corsairs. The Corsairs already knew me and trusted my word, so they have agreed to help. The Outcasts are still discussing my request." Orillion sighed at the arrogance of the richest criminal faction in Sirius. "They are still questioning the fact that they would be working with the Corsairs. As for individuals, I have contacted Michael King, colonel Kress, and Professor Quintaine. They have yet to arrive." Orillion paused, trying to think of anyone else, but he could think of none.

Hakkera directed a small smile at Orillion. He was glad that the commander was already recovering from the shock the Invaders had given him. "Good, good," Hakkera said, giving the Order leader a supportive pat on the shoulder. "You have made a good decision, calling for help like you did. I hope that the aid you receive will turn the tides on the fight against this new threat."

Orillion's personal communicator went off, demanding its owner's attention. Orillion unclipped it from his belt and looked at the call tag. When he read that the call was coming from the Osiris' communication room, he answered. "What's going on?"

"Sir, one of our patrols reported that a small force of Invader fighters have appeared at the Omicron Minor jumphole! They say that they are accompanied by a larger ship, but they couldn't identify it."

Orillion was concerned about the pilots. "What is the status of the patrol?"

"The patrol is alright, sir. They managed to avoid being detected and are currently heading back here, sir."

"Order all patrols to return to the Osiris immediately. We need to be ready if the Invaders attack. Orillion out." Orillion cut the transmission.

Hakkera, who had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal, finally spoke up. "I see that you are definitely regaining your confidence and decision-making skills, Orillion. But now, let us prepare for the situation at hand." Orillion nodded, and the two men left the room.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Invader Homeworld, outside Sirius

Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo sat down in the heavy iron chair in his residence area within the fortified walls of the Invader capital building. Selestren-Kulam had recently given Nalemo this room, having been thoroughly impressed with the informant's work. Nalemo greatly appreciated his leader's act of kindness; it was obvious that he didn't show this kind of appreciation to many other Invaders. Nalemo had been surprised that he had been given such a generous reward. Even so, he was happy with it. With Selestren-Kulam using Nalemo as a personal messenger, the long travels that he was sent on were tiring. Nalemo knew that he was well past his prime; he was thirty-eight, after all. Had he entered service as a soldier, he would have probably already been discharged for medical reasons, as most soldiers usually were. The brutish conditions that the infantry personnel endured on a daily basis put a tremendous strain on their bodies. As a result, most soldiers developed severe arthritis later on in their lives, which greatly hindered their combat effectiveness.

Such thoughts made Nalemo think back to his youth when he had been training to be a soldier. Like all other Invader boys, he had been taken from his mother to be raised by the military when he was still very young. From there on he grew up with the rest of the boys in his legion, keening his senses and heightening his physical endurance through the teachings of combat specialists. (Exercise was for the most part ignored, Invaders didn't need it; their muscles were incapable of strengthening or weakening.)

It wasn't until Nalemo's navigation skills were tested that his life took a drastic turn. The assignment was simple: find an enemy base that was hidden in the wilderness. Nalemo had been searching for his objective when he fell into a ravine and broke his leg. Nalemo, knowing well that any Invader that went missing would not be searched for, began the long crawl back towards civilization, a journey that took almost eight days, with Nalemo nearly starving to death. Upon his return Nalemo received medical attention and nourishment, but the damage had already been done. After being so severely deprived of food, Nalemo's body ceased to grow, stunting his height and muscle mass. After that, Nalemo was no longer fit to be a soldier, and he was relocated to work in a division of intelligence. At the time Nalemo was devastated, but looking back on it now, he was actually glad that he did not become a run-of-the-mill soldier. Now he was one of Selestren-Kulam's personal assistants, a position that was greatly respected by others.

Nalemo withdrew from his memories, shaking his head. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Selestren-Kulam had given Nalemo strict orders to write down everything that had happened during his conversation with Orad-Porel, the captain of the battleship Relentless. He was to write down every word, every gesture, and every other minute detail in the conversation to tell exactly what happened. He was to then personally give his report to Selestren-Kulam, who would then take it and store it in the capital's sole tower. What was up there, Nalemo had no idea; the area was closed off unto everyone, the only exception being the great Invader leader himself.

Sighing, Nalemo conjured a typing pad and set it down on the small table in front of him. Scratching his crest thoughtfully, the old Invader began to tap the keys in sequence, a report slowly forming on the pad's small screen. Nalemo took a moment to think about how his job was incredibly contradictory to the common outlook on Invader society. Most of Invaders saw their society as one of powerful force, with everyone being in on or behind the kill. If you weren't a leader, you were a fighter, and a damn good one at that. Yet here sat an Invader unto whom such principles did not seem to influence. But Nalemo knew that the reality of his job was extremely easy to overlook, so it did not bother him. Feeling secure, Nalemo continued to write his report.

-----

Juni looked down at the engagement ring that Trent had given to her just a few weeks prior. "What is this war going to do to us, Edison?" She looked up at her fiancé with a disquieted look on her face.

Trent tried think of the best way answer Juni's question. He didn't want to see her like this; he needed to reassure her that somehow everything was going to be all right. The problem was that both of them knew that if the Invaders kept advancing into Sirius like they have been, there was very little hope of everything turning out 'okay.'

Trent finally gave up, unable to think of anything. He huffed in self disappointment. "I have thought about the same thing, Jun'ko, and to tell you the truth, I don't know." Trent mentally scolded himself for not saying something supportive as he watched his fiancée's face grow sadder. Trent tried to think of something else to say, but once again came up with nothing. He sat there, totally silent, staring into the eyes of his beloved fiancée, feeling sorry that he could not say anything to comfort her.

Juni looked into Trent's eyes and saw his love and concern. She saw that he was regretting being unable to comfort her in the discussion of their future. She saw that they both needed comforting. Juni leaned towards Trent and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. "Hold me," she whispered.

Trent hesitated, but then proceeded to gently wrap his arms around Juni's small waist. Suddenly he felt calm, relaxed. He remembered how Jun'ko always seemed to be able to ease his tensions like this. Trent pulled his fiancée tighter against him, not wanting to let go. He gave a slight smile, sighing with a what-would-I-do-without-you expression.

Juni felt tears welling up in her eyes. She loved Trent so much; it was almost unbearable to think about losing him. She cared about him deeply, and it was obvious that he cared about her just as much. Juni knew that behind her fiancé's rugged appearance and demeanor, there was a kind and loving man that she had fallen in love with.

Juni looked up at Trent, and he looked down at her. As they gazed into each other's eyes, they exchanged their deepest feelings for one another through an emotional bond that suddenly tied them together. Slowly, surely, their faces drew closer together, until they finally came together in a kiss.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Outside Freeport 9, Omicron Theta system

Orillion stood at one of the windows on the Osiris' bridge, looking out at the fourteen Corsair Titans that waited patiently for any approaching Invader ships. There was just one problem: they had been waiting for half an hour and the Invaders had yet to leave the area around the Omicron Minor jumphole. This was a drastic change from their normal routine of engaging the human forces ASAP. What were they doing? That's what Orillion wanted to know. Suddenly he got an idea, and he turned to Ensign Wellington, who operated the Osiris' radar and scanners.

"Wellington," Orillion said, getting the young woman's attention. "I want you to scan all transmission frequencies for communications."

Wellington nodded. "Yes sir." She returned her attention to her control panel and began scanning.

Orillion looked back out the window at the idle Corsair ships. Corsair pilots were good fighters, everyone knew that. But he did not know any of the ones that were currently guarding his battleship. He wished that Hakkera was out there, as well as Colonel Trent and Zane. They were people that were worthy of his complete trust, as well as being very good pilots as well. But still, they were only human, and all three of them needed sleep. He had given them proper sleeping quarters; Orillion chuckled slightly as he recalled how Trent and Zane had requested to share a common residence. Orillion now knew that they were engaged, and even with the serious dilemma that stood before them all, he couldn't help but be happy for them. It was a ray of hope in the dark and sinister world that was pressed down upon them by a hostile alien race.

The sound of Wellington's voice met Orillion's ears. "Sir, I think I've got something."

Orillion turned back towards the ensign. "Let me hear it."

"Yes sir." Wellington tapped a control and the bridge speakers came to life, filling the room with coarse static. After a few seconds, the static turned into a sharp _click_, followed by a moment of silence. Another _click_, and the static started up again.

Orillion was intrigued. "Wellington, see if you can hone in on the correct frequency." Wellington acknowledged the order and started to adjust the receiver. The static began to play in and out and finally faded entirely. What came through the speakers was both what Orillion did and didn't want to hear.

"…Eshai tun att benkhujorl. -_click_-" The voice was deep and gruff.

"-_click_- Manoluh matoge jer selestren kulam holunegah attaweih! -_click_-" this voice was slightly higher pitched, and sounded as if its owner had spittle caught in its throat.

The sound that filled the bridge was that of two voices, both speaking in a strange, guttural language… the Invader native tongue. Everybody on deck stopped what they were doing and turned an attentive ear to the noise that came down from the speakers. No one moved or spoke as the two voices dragged on what was apparently an argument. Orillion stood motionless as the time slowly crept by, and the argument grew more heated and the voices grew aggressive, making threatening growls and open-mouth hisses between their words: at one point Orillion heard the gruff voice spit. The argument abruptly ended when a third voice presented itself. The third voice roared; it was obviously very mad at the other two. After shouting for a while in its alien language, the other voices fell silent.

Orillion was amazed at what he had heard. He looked back over at Ensign Wellington, and met her wide-eyed stare. Her hair had fallen into her eyes, and she made to attempt to brush it away.

"Please tell me that you recorded that," Orillion said slowly.

Wellington's face relaxed and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes sir."

A smile crept onto Orillion's face. "Good. Keep a tab on all transmissions on that frequency and record everything you hear. I want to know if whatever language they spoke in can be deciphered. Forward a copy of the recording to everybody on this ship who might be able to make sense of it." As Orillion once again looked out the window and recognized two familiar ships that were inbound towards the Osiris. Orillion turned to the bridge personnel. "I have to meet some people. Notify me should anything arise." With that, Orillion left the bridge.

-----

"ENOUGH!" Morl-Tefnul shouted through his comm. at the two arguing pilots. "As your wing leader, I do not want to hear any more fighting over such an unquestionable topic! You shall stop this nonsense or I will have you BOTH up for treason!" He clicked off his comm. and reveled in the ensuing silence. Morl-Tefnul leaned back and smiled; he was glad that the soldiers ender his command knew that he liked to "flare his crest" as the term went. He enjoyed being his strict self; it brought him respect. But he knew that the threat of being accused of treason by a superior officer was what really scared people; if the accused were found guilty (which they usually were), they were horrifically tortured, both physically and psychologically. What was common in such procedures was that the accused was relieved of his claws, crest and one of his Achilles tendons. And that was only the beginning of an 'easygoing' practice. More severe cases usually ended in the death of the accused. Should loyalty fail to keep an Invader in line, fear made an excellent alternative. But still, there were those that stepped out of line and managed to escape the clutches of society; such information was rigorously suppressed, however.

Morl-Tefnul shook his head. Why would these fools here even question their orders, especially the ones they had now? Their orders were to stay and protect their fighter's lifeline, a bleeder ship. This ship was essential to the survival of the fighters, because the fighters don't carry their own generators. They need another ship to broadcast the necessary energy to them, ships such as a battleships and bleeder ships that were capable of doing such things. And these fools under Morl's command not only questioned orders, but showed a lack of common sense by actually considering leaving the bleeder ship behind to attack the humans that sat outside the maximum energy broadcast range. Granted, they would be able to get there via teleportation, but they wouldn't have enough energy left in order to fight, much less teleport again to a safer place. Besides, they were only here to confirm the location of where the scout they sent had been, and it obviously was. Now they were just waiting for the Relentless to finish getting ready and teleport to their location. THEN they would be able to attack. Morl knew that this would take time, but it would all pay off when the humans were obliterated.

-----

Trent woke up to find himself lying next to Juni, looking upon her sweet sleeping face. He lay there silently, not moving a muscle, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber. As he quietly watched, Trent heard Juni mumble something; she must be dreaming. Trent smiled as he came to this realization, and wondered what she was dreaming about. Hopefully she would tell him about it later. Trent rather enjoyed listening to Juni tell him about the dreams she had; it helped him remember what it was like to dream, something that he had not been able to do for a long time.

Juni stirred, shifting her body to a more comfortable position, at the same time bringing her hand up to rest between herself and Trent. Trent took the opportunity to slide his hand into hers, and was rewarded when Juni gently squeezed his hand in response. Trent watched as a smile spread across her lips and her serene face became more relaxed.

"She is so beautiful," Trent thought. He had always found her physically attractive. She had a soft face, graceful curves, and gorgeous eyes… not to mention a well-developed posterior. And as their relationship started to develop, Trent found that she also had an appealing personality to match. After their first few dates, Trent found Juni to have a kind and caring heart, and her attitude became lighthearted, even playful when she had something to be happy about. Ever since they met, Trent found that the only thing about Juni that he had to worry about was making her angry. He had upset her a few times before, and when she was mad, she was MAD. Fortunately, Trent was able to avoid her bad side most of the time. Besides, Juni had turned out to be a much better companion than Trent's ex-girlfriend. "Damn Kate," Trent thought. But he didn't want to think about her and their dead relationship. He wanted to think about the close bond that he shared with Jun'ko. Their future together was what Trent was fighting for. He wasn't about to let anything take her away from him, not even the damned Invaders. Trent swore that together, they would live to see the day that the Invaders were ultimately defeated and humans would emerge victorious once more.

Trent's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door. "Oh, great," he mumbled. Careful not to wake Juni, Trent pulled his hand away and rose out of the bed. After donning a shirt and a pair of pants, he walked over to the door and opened it. As the door slid away, Trent found himself looking at his old business friend, Michael King.

"Hey, Trent!" King said loudly, a broad smile on his face. "How've ya been, buddy?"

Trent quickly put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Keep it down, will you? Jun'ko's still asleep."

King's smile faded. "Oh, sorry 'bout that," he whispered, an apologetic expression on his face. He hadn't realized that they would probably be sharing a room.

"It's all right, you didn't know." Trent glanced back over to the bed and was relieved to see that Juni was still asleep. He turned back to King. "I'm fine, by the way."

"Good to hear." King's face drooped and his voice turned serious. "Take a walk with me." Trent obliged, and the two took off at a steady pace down the hall.

King spoke up. "I just got here. Orillion told me about what's been going on… getting creamed by those aliens. And from what I've heard, they've got something up their sleeve."

Trent was intrigued. "Go on…"

King gave Trent a slightly confused look. "Didn't you hear? There's a group of those Invaders by the Omicron Minor Jump hole." Trent stopped, and his eyes grew wide. "But the thing is they're not doing anything," King said quickly. "Orillion told me about how they apparently liked to attack as soon as they got the chance. But these guys are just sittin' there. They've been like that for about an hour now." King shook his head. "I don't know what they're up to, but I have a hunch that they're not feeling sorry for what they've already done."

Trent was bewildered. "I… think Juni should know about this," he said slowly.

King nodded. "That's probably a good idea." King looked at his watch. "I gotta go, Trent. Later." King turned and headed down the hall, while Trent started to head back to his room.

"Hey, Trent!" King called back towards Trent, who stopped and turned back around.

"Yeah?"

"I just want to say that I hope that we win this war, for yours and Jun'ko's sake at least. It'd be a shame to see this war deprive you guys of a future together. I want you to know that you have my unwavering support. If there's anything you need me to do, just ask."

Trent smiled appreciatively. "Thanks." King nodded in response and continued walking, eventually disappearing around the corner. Trent headed back to his room.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Battleship Osiris, Omicron Theta system. 1 hour later

A large table sat in the center of the research lab on the Osiris. Around the table sat seven individuals, their ears ringing with the recorded sounds of blatant gibberish.

"-_click_- Ramlugh selestren kulam eih deh, uon eih deh! -_click_-"

"-_click_- Nehrasheh! Umluto paiise dhuln llomtaer! -_click_-"

Kendra Sinclair listened intently to the alien conversation for the umpteenth time in the last hour, trying to make sense of the alien argument on the recording. Yet all that she and the other people, including linguists and researchers such as herself, had been able to figure was that the phrase 'selestren kulam' came up often, hinting that it may be the name of an important individual or organization in their society, perhaps as well being be the topic of the argument. Other than that, the only other thing they knew was that the clicking sounds was their communications equipment being turned on and off. Everything else was hypothetical.

Sinclair was slightly sickened when she heard the gruff voice spit. It was so vile, disgusting… she had not expected any insight into the Invader culture to be like this. Everyone in the room agreed; for such an advanced race, the Invaders sounded surprisingly primitive.

The recording stopped, and Sinclair looked blankly at her analysis paper, its surface absent of notes. Sighing, she looked at the other people around the table. The look on their faces told her that they were stumped as well.

"Does anyone have a new lead?" a Kusari woman asked, only to be answered with disappointed murmurs and shaking heads.

After the room fell silent again, a Libertarian man spoke up. "Why don't we take 15?" Everyone in the room looked at him with questioning faces. "You know," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "just to rest up a bit. Give our minds a chance to freshen up." Them man's suggestion was met with approval, and everyone decided that a short break would do them well.

As everyone else filed out of the room, Sinclair lagged behind, her thoughts residing upon the Invaders and the threat they posed to Sirius. What would happen if they won this war? What would happen to the human race? These thoughts plagued Sinclair as she gathered her things and finally headed out the door, where she immediately bumped into an aging man, causing him to drop the papers in his hands.

Embarrassed, Sinclair bent down, gathering the man's papers. "I'm sorry, sir," she stammered. "I didn't see you there. I should have…" Sinclair looked up and recognized the man. "Quintaine!" she shouted.

Quintaine smiled. "Hello, Kendra."

"What are you doing here?" Sinclair asked, standing up and handing him his papers.

"Orillion contacted me, said he needed my assistance." Quintaine's voice turned grim. "Thing's aren't going too well, are they?"

Sinclair sighed. "No. Not very well at all. Ever since the Invaders showed up, the majority of the Order's fighter power has been eradicated, and the Invaders have been quickly pushing us back into civilized space." She looked into the professor's eyes, somehow asking for assistance. "We managed to get their communication frequency, but no one can decipher their language. I've tried, but from what I can tell, their language is nothing like that of the Dom Kavash." Sinclair lowered her gaze, saddened by the thought of a bleak future that now stood before Sirius.

Quintaine put a reassuring hand on Sinclair's shoulder. "I understand what is happening here; it's like the nomad incursion all over again, isn't it?" Sinclair nodded glumly, and Quintaine gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "Well," he said, "Keep your chin up. We beat them, so why can't we beat these new aliens? All we need to do is find one weakness and exploit it, just like we did with the nomads." Quintaine's face pulled itself into a hopeful look, but still gave away a hint of concern.

"You're right." Sinclair said. Although the professor's words were reassuring, she didn't want to talk about the Invaders. "So, "she said, changing the subject, "when did you get here?"

"About twenty minutes ago." Quintaine removed his hand from Sinclair's shoulder and allowed it to drop to his side. He decided that it would not be wise to tell her that he had also met up with Michael King, and that he was also on board now. On the way to Omicron Theta, King had told the professor about their sour relationship, and how the two of them never exactly appeared to see things 'eye to eye.'

Sinclair looked at her watch and saw that seven minutes of the fifteen-minute break had already passed. She turned her attention back to Quintaine. "Listen, Quintaine. All of the people working on deciphering the Invader language are stumped. We're on break right now, but when we start up again, do you think you can help?"

Quintaine smiled. "I shall certainly provide my assistance," he answered. "May I ask you; what do they sound like?"

Sinclair jerked a thumb back into the research lab. "Play the recording and see for yourself. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

-----

Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo found himself once again standing in front a large metal door, nervously fidgeting as he waited to see Master Selestren-Kulam. Nalemo had flinched when he found out that his report was to be the topic of this meeting, and knew that Kulam was most likely disappointed about how Nalemo had allowed Orad-Porel to wriggle his way out of trouble after he failed to wait for the orders to pursue the retreating humans.

The sound of footsteps caught Nalemo's attention. He wheeled around, and found the footsteps belonging to an armored Invader soldier, who said nothing as he approached the smaller informant. Nalemo recoiled slightly as he eyed the antimatter mortar that was slung around the soldier's torso. Those things could deal out quite a bit of damage, and from the looks of it, its owner would not hesitate to demonstrate the weapon's destructive capabilities. "_That soldier must be a Capital Guard,_" Nalemo thought, judging by the amount of armor that the soldier was wearing (almost a full suit). Capital Guards were the most highly decorated soldiers in Invader society, and most were easily distinguishable by the amount of armor they wore - in the Invader military, armor was not freely given out; it was earned by performing notable deeds.

The soldier silently walked by Nalemo without giving him a second glance. He walked to the door and grasped the handle.

The soldier paused, and spoke. "Master Selestren-Kulam will see you." He slowly pulled the door open beckoned for Nalemo to enter. Nalemo nodded and went through the doorway, and the soldier followed him through, closing the door behind him and taking a post beside it.

Selestren-Kulam sat at an unadorned table, the carcass of a freshly killed marlaequeh (a large sea creature with a very durable exoskeleton) lying in front of him. The Invader leader took notice of Nalemo's entrance.

"Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo. Come, sit," Selestren-Kulam called to Nalemo. Not wanting to anger the large Invader, Nalemo approached and sat down across the table from his over-muscled leader, looking over the animal carcass to see Kulam's face.

"I was just about to eat," Selestren-Kulam said matter-of-factly. As Nalemo watched, Kulam grabbed hold of one of the marlaequeh's six sturdy armored legs and pulled, separating the limb from the rest of the body in a small fountain of blood, which began to pool onto the table. Using a clawed finger, the Invader leader peeled away the leg's protective plating, scooped out the raw flesh inside and ate it, enjoying to the fullest the meat's unique taste and texture. He discarded what remained of the limb and licked the palm of his hand.

Kulam stopped eating and looked at the silver-haired Nalemo, who sat there, motionless. "So," Kulam started, "can you make a guess of why you're here?"

Nalemo inhaled sharply. "Master, is it because I allowed Orad-Porel's disobedience to go unpunished?"

Selestren-Kulam blinked, surprised. "Yes… yes that is correct." Kulam always asked this question to anyone that got in a spot of trouble with him, and it had been a while since anyone had guessed correctly. "You failed to see to it that an unjust action was met with fitting consequences. I don't like it when that happens, it can make me look bad." Selsetren-Kulam leaned over the animal carcass and lowered his voice. "Do you know how hard it is to keep everyone in line?"

Nalemo shook his head. "No, Master."

"Let me tell you now, that it is very hard," Kulam whispered with an air of deadly seriousness, "even with the guidelines that the gods bestow upon us. No matter how hard I try to keep everyone in check, there is always a traitor, always an infidel, always one who will turn his back on our mission for some foolish reason. These people humiliate me, point their fingers at me and laugh! I have absolutely no tolerance for these people, and of this I assure you: if I am even the slightest bit humiliated by their hand, I will make certain that they quickly die by mine."

Without warning, Selestren-Kulam brought up his hand, formed it into a shovel, and plunged it into the marlaequeh's heavily armored back. The thick exoskeleton shattered with a sickening _CRACK_, sending fragments of bony turquoise armor and globules of blood flying in every direction. Nalemo sputtered, wiping the organic debris away from his eyes and mouth.

Once Nalemo recovered from the initial shock, he watched as Selestren-Kulam withdrew his undamaged hand from the marlaequeh's punctured backside and flexed his fingers, which were now covered in the dead animal's blood. Nalemo was speechless. Marlaequehs where known for their tremendously durable exoskeletons; with proper knowledge, a soldier could fashion an effective armor out of it. The armor was extremely difficult to break apart, even for a full-grown Invader. And Nalemo had just witnessed the leader of his race form a gaping hole in the back of one of these creatures, and on his first attempt at that! Nalemo had never seen or heard of such a feat before.

Selestren-Kulam smiled. "That could have been YOU, Jori-Def-Olen-Nalemo," he said, making a casual gesture towards the dead crustacean. "I have already said that I have absolutely NO tolerance for those who humiliate me, and you almost became one of them. Fortunately for you, there were three things that kept me from killing you."

Nalemo stared wide-eyed at Kulam and gave him his full attention.

"One," Selestren-Kulam started, "I like you. Although you failed to see Orad-Porel be properly punished for his acts, I still find you as an overall good representative. You do your job quickly and without question, and that is a characteristic that I like to see in the people that work for me. Two: I don't like Orad-Porel. For several years, he has been almost constantly toeing the line and testing my patience, trying to see just how much he can get away with. The only reason that I keep him is because he is a superb commander, and knows how to get the soldiers under his command to do what is commanded of them. And three: What Orad-Porel said to you was actually right."

Nalemo blinked. _This_ was certainly a surprise. Was Selestren-Kulam talking about the loophole in the battle code? "Master… are you talking about the conflicting statements in the battle code?"

Kulam nodded. "Yes. For the situation that he was in, that flaw in the code is what saved his hide. Thankfully, he will not be able to pull a stunt like that again. I have since rewritten the battle code and closed that loophole. And I have taken the liberty to punish him myself and see that he does not see action again for a while."

Nalemo was curious. "Master, may I ask how you intend to accomplish that?" he asked.

Kulam allowed a smile to spread across his face. "I sent him a special package that will make sure that the Relentless stays put for a while." He let out a low chuckle, then leaned back and motioned Nalemo towards the door. "Leave, and never speak of anything that you heard here. You are dismissed."

Nalemo stood up, saluted, and left the room. Selestren-Kulam resumed eating.

----

Two hours had passed, and Morl-Tefnul was concerned; the Relentless should have arrived by now. It was very uncommon for battleship preparation to take so long. What could have happened that would cause the Relentless to be late? Morl had heard rumors that the battleship's commander, Orad-Porel, had somewhat of a rebellious attitude. Maybe that was it? Morl-Tefnul thought about it, and came to the conclusion that Orad-Porel's personality was not to be blamed; the commander always took the task of advancing the fleet seriously.

There was a _THUMP_, and an Invader fighter teleported into a designated safe-zone and established a communications link with the Invader fighter wing.

"Scouting wing, there has been a change of plans," said the pilot of the new fighter. "Your wing will not attack the humans alongside the battleship Relentless. You will instead be joined by the Burners Turmoil and Agony, along with additional fighters. They will be arriving shortly."

Morl-Tefnul was worried about the battleship. "What happened to the Relentless?" he asked, speaking for his entire wing.

The response was delayed, but the new fighter replied. "There was an explosion on board, and the main reactor was knocked out. It will be a few days before the Relentless is in fighting form again."

Morl pushed for more information. "What caused the explosion?"

"I don't know. The reactor must have backfired, that's what I think happened. Others say that it was a bomb, but that's foolish. Who would be able to do such a thing and get away with it?"

The conversation was interrupted as a group of Corsairs in titans chose that particular moment in time to crash the party. Morl was taken by surprise, but quickly came to his senses. "Engage!" he shouted at his fighters. "Protect the bleeder ship!" Looking over the attacking human ships, he spotted one that looked particularly vulnerable. With a speed that was only attainable through years of experience, he entered coordinate data into his ship's database and pulled a large yellow lever over his head. Morl heard a loud, shrill scraping sound as his ship dumped energy into its teleportation system as it prepared to break the ship apart, atom by atom, and rebuild it at the coordinates that Morl had entered. A moment later, he felt searing pain as he and his ship disappeared…

…And reappeared behind the targeted human ship. In an instant, Morl-Tefnul felt his pain totally subside, and he fired his weapons at the large tan vessel. The orbs of super-concentrated dark matter that emanated from his weapons tore through the human craft's shields and relieved the fighter of its right wing. Gleefully, Morl pursued the titan, thankful that he had finally found himself fighting a talented human. He became so absorbed in the fight, everything else around him disappeared. He was in his own world, just him and the human he was chasing, nothing else. After a minute of pursuing the human ship, Morl-Tefnul finally won the fight. He let out a mighty roar of triumph as he watched the finally beaten titan explode into a ball of flames. Craving the blood of another challenger, he turned his ship around, searching for a human ship that wasn't already taken.

Suddenly Morl-Tefnul felt his ship shudder as it was bombarded by a powerful energy wave. The lights in the instrument panel went out, and he lost the ability to fire his weapons. _"What happened?"_ he thought. Fortunately, Morl fighter's engine was still powered up, and he turned his ship around to look at the source of the energy wave. He let out a cry of fury as he realized what had happened. The bleeder ship had been destroyed! That ship had been their lifeline, and now it was gone. The fighters were unable to defend themselves!

Morl-Tefnul felt his ship shudder again, and knew that he was being bombarded by enemy fire. He jerked the steering lever and pulled into a corkscrew, trying to dodge the attack that was slowly tearing his ship apart. The tactic worked for a while, that is until the Corsair pilot compensated, and packages of neutrons once again detonated upon the Invader fighter's damaged hull, puncturing the armor and eating away at the framework. Finally, the stress on the fighter's weakened skeleton became too great, and the red craft buckled and broke apart. With the internal environment compromised, Morl-Tefnul felt his body quickly succumb to the vacuum of space. He was in so much pain; it felt like his whole body was going to explode. Panicked, Morl tried to scream, but only to find that there was no air in his lungs. Only a few seconds had passed, and even though he was in tremendous pain, Morl refused to accept death as he felt his life ebbing away. However, despite his best efforts, he found that no amount of defiance could stave off his mortality. Finally beaten, Morl-Tefnul grimaced, twitched, and died.

-----

"Yeah!" wing leader Julius cried out as he watched the Invader fighter break apart in front of him. These guys were a cinch to take down, now that that one strange ship had been destroyed.

"Three down, four to go!" someone called out over the comm. as another Invader fighter was destroyed.

Julius tagged and pursued another Invader. As he opened his guns, he reveled in the joy of watching the alien fighter feebly try to dodge the attack. It did not teleport, nor return fire. Julius easily brought it down.

"Last one, people! The area is clear!" someone else shouted. Cheering was heard over the comm. channels.

Julius activated his comm. "Who took down that weird ship?"

There was a brief pause, and the reply came through. "This is Domica Silez. I did, sir," the pilot said proudly. "I torped the damn thing into oblivion!"

Julius smiled and clicked the comm. "Good, job. I don't know what that thing did, but it's obvious that the fighters relied on it for something." Domica smiled back at Julius through the comm. window.

Julius terminated the communication link and leaned back, smiling broadly. God bless Silez, she was a terrific pilot. Julius was glad to have her on his team, and glad that she was able to destroy the strange Invader vessel. The technology on board must have been very volatile, by the way it had blown up. For one, Invader fighters only seemed to break apart or blow up with a small explosion when they were destroyed. However, the ship that Silez had taken down, while somewhat larger, had exploded with tremendous force after it was struck by the torpedo, and the resulting energy wave had been felt by all ships around the Omicron Minor jumphole. Julius knew that the Order would have wanted to see the technology on board such a ship, but oh well. This was the first human victory against the Invaders. Julius was glad that the Corsairs had called for this attack.

Domica Silez came over the comm. "I just got off the horn with the commander. He congratulates us and says that he will see to it that we return to base with honors."

Julius sat up and keyed the fighter wing's communication channel. "Comrades, let's go home." The other Corsairs proudly agreed, and the Corsairs left the jumphole.

Not even two minutes after the triumphant Corsairs departed, an Invader attack force suddenly appeared at the now lifeless scene. First to arrive were the fighters, making their entrance with their characteristic _THUMP_. But a few seconds later, something new accompanied the fighters. With a continuous, loud crackling sound, a new class of Invader attack vessel teleported into place. It was much larger than the fighters; slightly larger than a Liberty cruiser. Two sharp fins grew out of the ship's rear and swept forward. Another fin protruded out of the craft's back, its base starting halfway down the ship's back and stopping just short of a visible command station, dwarfing the other two fins. At the ship's nose, the body pulled itself into a circular opening, housing a powerful seven-sectioned weapon cluster. Like most other large Invader ships, underneath the red chrome armor and deadly arsenal sat an energy broadcasting system, giving surrounding Invader fighters the power they needed to engage the enemy. All of this was propelled by a single oversized engine, making up the deadly weapon that was the burner ship called Turmoil. At first glance, anyone could say that the ship looked ungainly, but when should you judge something by its appearance? In reality, these burner ships were fast, agile, and extremely deadly.

A few moments more and the burner Agony made its presence known. After scanning their surroundings and figuring out what had happened to the scouting party, the burners and supporting fighters started to make their way out of the surrounding asteroid field. Not wanting to make a foolish miscalculation and teleport into a solid object, the small fleet navigated between the asteroids. Once clear of the field, the ships would teleport themselves to a common destination. At these coordinates lay the fleet's targets: Freeport 9 and battleship Osiris.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system

There was a murmur of activity on the bridge of the battleship Relentless. Several ship personnel sat in front of the instrument panels, keeping in check with the fighters that were patrolling the surrounding area, keeping watch over the jumphole to Omicron Theta, and supervising the battleship's functional systems, searching for flaws that could hinder the Relentless' performance.

Orad-Porel impatiently paced back and forth across the bridge, making random aggravated huffs as he plodded down the same line over and over. Needless to say, he was quite upset. With the main reactor down, the Relentless was unable to attain the power required to successfully activate its teleportation system. That meant that the mighty ship was unable to advance into the next system, and was therefore left behind as a secondary task force departed to attack and destroy the human base and ships that Orad wanted so much to see destroyed with his own eyes. But it was not to be. As the captain, he was not allowed to leave the ship while on duty.

Orad heard the bridge door open. He turned and watched as the giant soldier Rames-Une-Teral step, or rather duck, through the doorway. Rames approached the ship captain, and with a respectful "sir," he knelt in salute, his head so low that the hair growing from the sides of the soldier's elongated jaw brushed the grungy deck plates.

"Your presence surprises me, Rames-Une-Teral," Orad-Porel stated, allowing the soldier to rise. "What brings you here?"

Rames inhaled deeply. "Sir," he started, "the soldiers that you ordered to inspect the damage caused by the explosion in the reactor room have found that the effected area has some…" Rames paused, nervously clearing his throat, "…unusual characteristics."

All activity on the bridge ceased as those within earshot of the conversation overheard what Rames had stated. The damaged area had 'unusual characteristics'? What in the name of the gods did that mean? Was it possible that Rames-Une-Teral spoke of sabotage? What an intolerable suggestion! Surely a rebel could not have infiltrated the security system and performed such a loathsome act without being detected!

Orad-Porel narrowed his eyes, his anger growing as he realized exactly what Rames was talking about. "Show me," he said through gritted teeth.

Rames saluted again. "Yes sir. Follow me." The drastically oversized Invader rose, turned, and dutifully left the bridge, with Orad-Porel close behind.

Orad-Porel closely followed Rames, but kept a reasonable distance between himself and the soldier to compensate for the leviathan's massive stride, taking three broad steps to travel the distance that Rames covered in one. The deck shuddered with each step as Rames maintained a brisk pace. Still, this was not quick enough for Orad-Porel.

"Move faster, soldier. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Rames was reluctant, but nevertheless broke into a lumbering jog as he traveled down the hall, forcing other Invaders to back against the walls as he charged on by. The Relentless was an extremely large ship, and it would take several minutes to reach the area where the explosion had taken place. Rames knew that his body was not made to jog such a distance in normal gravity; he was simply too large for that. It wouldn't be very long before his muscles began to tire, but the soldier knew that Orad-Porel would not appreciate it if he started to slow when he became fatigued. Rames would have to keep up the pace for the entire trip; he only hoped that his legs would not give out.

Orad-Porel, however, did not tire at all as he followed Rames-Une-Teral on a twelve-minute trip down halls, up ramps, through doors, down more halls, and across a bridge that picked its way between several massive cooling towers. The journey ended when the two Invaders slipped through a large door that led into the cavernous room that housed the Relentless' main reactor. When operational, the reactor was extremely powerful, so inadvertently it was also extremely large. The dark grey machine stood roughly two-hundred-ten feet high, one-hundred-fifty feet wide, and five-hundred-twenty feet long. The front of the machine was dominated by a tremendous elongated capsule: the antimatter compression chamber. Several massive pipes connected the reactor to the ship's fuel ballasts, allowing the machine to draw dark matter from the reserves into the reservoir and compress the substance. A controlled explosion within the chamber would then force the antimatter to give off a tremendous amount of energy. The emitted energy was then absorbed by specialized sensors and stored in the Relentless' central battery, located three decks below.

Rames-Une-Teral was exhausted. Now sweating profusely, he sat down on all fours, panting heavily. His heavy breathing caught the attention of the ship's captain.

"What's the matter, Rames-Une-Teral? Feeling tired?" Orad-Porel sneered. He saw fatigue as a weakness, and it displeased him that Rames was tired after the trip.

Rames looked up in surprise. "What? No sir…" he said, shakily rising to his feet. Despite the fact that his lungs were screaming for air, Rames forced himself to breathe normally. "I am at my full capabilities, sir."

Orad could easily tell that the soldier was lying, but he allowed it to slide. Orad looked at the reactor, then back at Rames.

"I don't see any damage, Rames-Une-Teral." Orad said quizzically. Is this some kind of joke?"

Rames pointed a finger at the reactor. "The damage is on the other side, sir," he replied. "I would escort you there, but the deck on that side was weakened in the blast, and I fear that it would not support my weight."

Orad-Porel nodded and trekked to the other side of the antimatter reactor, where true to Rames' word, the carnage lay. Looking at the reactor again, Orad saw that the compression chamber had ruptured, leaving a hole six feet wide. For twenty feet all around, the deck around the damaged area was charred and half-corroded. Orad was not alarmed by the scene; this was what usually happened when a reactor backfired. The compression chamber would spring a leak and the dark matter would jet out of the opening, eating any metal that it came into contact with. Orad stepped onto the blackened portion deck; it creaked, but it held. Upon closer inspection, Orad noticed that even though the scene made it look like the reactor had backfired, there were several details showing that it wasn't. The first thing that Orad's trained eye noticed was that the edges of gash in the reactor's compression chamber were bent inward instead of outward. Second, from the small circular pits the deck, the corrosion had been brief but strong, instead of the typical long and weak exposure. Orad let loose a ferocious roar as he realized what had REALLY happened. The reactor hadn't backfired.

It had been a bomb.

-----

Jun'ko Zane sat at the edge of the bed, still in her nightwear, sipping on her morning glass of water. She casually watched as her fiancé, Edison Trent, shaved in front of the mirror. She had been worried lately about him - about their future. Trent had told her about the Invaders that had been waiting by the Omicron Minor Jumphole, but the news that they had been destroyed by a Corsair attack group was a welcome relief. Still, Juni wondered if their lives would ever be able to get back to the way they were before.

"You were dreaming last night, Jun'ko," Trent said, sensing Juni's worries. "What were you dreaming about?"

Trent's question surprised Juni, but knowing that he liked to hear about her dreams, she willingly complied with her fiancé's request.

"Well…" she began, recalling what had happened, "the dream I had last night was kind of strange. You were there, (Trent smirked at this)…and there was this talking white fire."

Trent finished shaving and washed his face, then walked over to the bed and sat next to Juni, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Okay," he said, intrigued, "what did the fire say?"

Juni set her glass down on the bedside table. "It said many cryptic things, like 'light will repel the darkness,' and 'the old gives way to the new,'" Juni said smiling. "Stuff like that. The things it said were very comforting somehow. The fire had a name… I can't remember what it was. It began with 'E.'"

Trent leaned pushed Juni's black hair behind her ear and gently kissed her lips. "I'm glad that that you had a relaxing dream, Jun'ko," he said, smiling. "I wish that I could do the same."

Juni smiled sweetly back at her fiancé. "Thank you, Edison."

"I'm hungry," Trent stated, standing up. "Do you want to get dressed and head down to the mess hall?"

Before Juni could answer, the ship intercom came to life. "Alert!" an automated voice warned, "Invader fighters approaching. Alert! Unknown ships approaching. All fighter pilots, report to your ships."

_"Dammit!"_ Trent thought as the message began to repeat. _"Don't these guys ever take a break? And what surprise have they brought this time!"_ He turned to Juni, who was staring back at him, a bewildered expression on her face. "Looks like getting food is out of the question. Come on!" Juni came to her senses and jumped up from the bed, and grabbed her LSF jumpsuit. Trent moved to help her.

"You go ahead, Edison," she said urgently. "I'll catch up with you."

Trent saw that Juni was not in the mood for arguing. "All right, Jun'ko. Just don't be too long." He threw on his brown leather jacket and headed out the door.

-----

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun, captain of the burner Turmoil and commander of the attack fleet, was taken aback by what he saw as his ship emerged from the asteroid field. Through the curved monitors on the bridge, he saw a ghostly yellow dwarf, heavens that were filled with countless stars, smears of colorful nebulas, and brilliant galaxies, all seemingly frozen in time. He had never seen such a spectacular sight before, only familiar with space that was covered in ugly clouds, all being shades of either grey or brown.

With duty at hand, Unasht did not let his mind wander for very long. He had the coordinates where the human base and ship were; he might as well pay them a visit. Unasht turned around and walked towards the center of the bridge, where a small instrument panel had been placed.

Unasht looked at the panel. The left side of its surface was occupied by a screen that displayed various objects and their relative coordinates to the Turmoil. In the middle, an eleven-key numeric keypad took up a good portion of the surface. On the far right, there was a familiar large yellow lever, bordered to the south by a linear charge gauge, which currently read full. Yes, this was the console that was connected to the Turmoil's teleportation system, and the only instrument panel that the captain operated.

Unasht entered a set of coordinates that would put him three R (roughly 3.7 K) away from the human base and secured the lever in his firm grip. All the other ships had emerged from the asteroid field, and were awaiting his orders to teleport. And now, he was ready. He directed his attention to his communications officer.

"Communication," he said, getting the soldier's attention. "Send the signal to move for the human base on my mark. Mark!" The communicator pushed a button that sent the signal for the other ships to teleport to their given coordinates. Unasht pulled the lever. In the background, he heard the teleportation device fire up, and he felt significant pain as his body was broken up and reassembled elsewhere. The pain subsided, and the captain found himself enveloped in darkness. The darkness gave way to light as the ship's electronics powered up again. Monitors blinked on, revealing the new space that surrounded them. Both the human base and battleship were now visible, centered in the front monitor. The burner ships slowed their approach, while the fighters rushed in to attack.

Unasht spoke again, this time to his weapons manager. "Armament!" he growled. "Begin charging the main cannon. Aim for the human battleship." The orders were acknowledged, and Unasht felt the ship shift slightly as the forward weapon cluster was brought to face the Osiris. In the background he heard rhythmic muffled explosions as the reactor started pumping energy into the weapon battery.

If there was one thing about the Turmoil's main weapon that Unasht-Nevtah-Muun did not like, it was the fact that it required a large amount of power to start the weapon cycle, and during the charge period the ship's defense turrets were offline. What happened after that priming charge was built, however, made it all pay off. The turrets were activated, and the forward weapon cluster would emit a focused stream of dark matter, making seven unbroken beams of destruction that would burn and melt their way through anything they came across. The time that the weapon was engaged was limited only to the amount of available fuel; as long as the weapon was kept within safe operational parameters, the weapon battery could be recharged faster than the main cannon depleted it. This powerful 'clusterbeam,' as some called it, gave the Invader burner ships a serious edge in battle.

Armament spoke up. "Main cannon charging, sir. Four minutes until starting cycle."

-----

Freeport 9 was being evacuated, a constant stream of ships pouring out of the launch bays and fleeing into the surrounding nebula. Some made it; others were taken down as they became prey to the Invader fighters.

Trent had barely left the Osiris' docking bay, and already he was under fire. His Sabre's cockpit was flooded by harsh red light as a bolt of enemy fire barreled by just beyond the glass, the glowing red head leaving in its wake a customary black trail of dark matter. Startled, but not phased, Trent pushed the engines to full and joined the fray. He targeted the nearest Invader fighter and launched one of his newly acquired cannonball missiles. The pilot of the alien fighter was too busy trying to take down a Corsair to notice the incoming projectile. Trent watched as the missile drove its way right up into the engine and detonated, splitting the hull and peeling it outwards, leaving the ship looking like a strange flower. The crippled fighter started to vent atmosphere, and began to spin like a top as it spiraled off into the distance. Trent had no time to celebrate, as another Invader fighter popped into existence to his low left. The fighter scored a direct hit on the Sabre, and Trent saw his shield gauge drop from full to one-third. He punched the thruster and zoomed away, dropping a ripper mine in the hopes of deterring his opponent. To his dismay, Trent's maneuver did not have the desired effect, and the Invader managed to land two more volleys on the Sabre, the second impacting upon the ship's protective grey armor. Trent swore when he heard a crash as his hull was struck and instinctively engaged shield batteries, regaining the protective force field around his ship. He swung the Sabre around, trying to get his pursuer in his sights. However, the attacker disappeared in a puff of dark matter, and reappeared behind Trent once again.

Trent decided to get a little creative. Targeting the fighter once more, he swiveled his cruise disruptor around and fired a hornet – backwards. The hornet impacted upon the red fighter's nose, disorienting the fighter. Trent once again spun around and this time he succeeded in landing enough shots on the ship to effectively tear into the cockpit and kill the pilot. Without someone behind the wheel, the Invader fighter was reduced to little more than floating debris.

-----

"Two minutes until starting cycle, sir."

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun frowned. His approach was too slow. At this rate, by the time the main cannon was charged, the human battleship would still be out of range. Unasht found this somewhat ironic; he knew that a beam weapon should not have a limited range, and should cut a perfectly straight line through space, without the slightest shudder by the weapon itself. Yes, the Turmoil's main cannons were fixed, that didn't mean that the barrels didn't wobble in their cases. That small trembling would make the beams arc out wildly over long distances, and eventually disperse.

Unasht directed his attention at the engine operator. "Engines! Double our current speed." His orders were obeyed, and the burner ship started to accelerate, pulling ahead of the Agony. Unasht was close enough to see the firefight around the human base. He noted with great displeasure that the filthy aliens seemed to be holding their own. He responded quite as personally as he could. Unasht strode over the communications console, rudely pushed the communicator out of the way, and opened a channel to the burner ship Agony.

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun started barking orders. "Agony! Pull ahead and aid the fighters. Charge the enemy!" The captain of the Agony started to complain, saying that he almost had a full charge, but Unasht would not hear of it. "Do as I say, soldier! I am in command here!" Reluctantly, the other captain acknowledged the order, canceling its clusterbeam's priming charge and opening the engine throttle. Unasht watched as the Agony briskly fly ahead the Turmoil, bringing its four turrets to bear.

"Sir," armament said suddenly. "One minute until starting cycle."

-----

Jun'ko Zane dropped out of the Osiris and into the battle that raged around her. She joined the Zoner, Corsair, BH and Order pilots, all of whom were valiantly holding off the Invader attacks. The Corsairs and Bounty Hunters were doing nicely. The Zoners, however, weren't faring too well.

"Good to see you, Jun'ko," said a familiar voice through the comm. "Jump in where you can."

Juni keyed a response. "Will do, Edison." She tagged the nearest Invader fighter and pursued it, pounding the hull with her cannons. The ship took notice of Juni's attacks and teleported elsewhere. _"Dammit,"_ Juni thought as the fighter disappeared before she could take it out.

Suddenly the system-wide comm. channel came alive, and Orillion's concerned face appeared on its dynamic screen. "To all ships! A large unknown contact is on approach. Stay alert, and engage if it appears hostile!" The transmission was terminated.

With the other fighters holding off the Invaders, Juni found the time to locate the incoming contact. She eyed a 3d model of the object which her computer automatically drew up, complete with its calculated dimensions. It was very large, bigger than a Liberty cruiser. The first thing Juni noticed was the huge fin that rose from its back: it reminded her of a Mohawk. The sight of four weapon turrets and an oversized engine proved the contact to be a ship, and an impressively fast one at that; Juni's ship calculated its approach at one-hundred-thirty-five KPS (which is very fast, considering that Invader ships do not possess cruise engines). Juni looked away from the screen and spotted the thing closing in on the battle. She saw the unknown ship in all its glory, complete with pointed fins and red chrome armor.

_"An Invader cruiser?"_ Juni wondered with disbelief.

As the ship came within weapons range, the turrets along its sides warmed and belched, unleashing several volleys of hellfire as it attacked the human ships, the salvos puncturing shields and tearing through armor as they met their targets with a ravenous hunger. Several Corsairs and Zoners went down, the survivors scattering like dust in the wind.

Juni was so immersed in the spectacle that she did not notice an Invader fighter teleport behind her until it started pounding away at her shields, bringing it within a hairbreadth from failure. Snapping back to the dilemma at hand, she veered off, swearing, angry that she allowed herself to become so sidetracked. She deployed a mine, which struck her attacker on one of its front wings, cracking it in two. The Invader fighter was undeterred, and fired its cannons again, breaking what remained of the defender's shield and scoring a hit on the lower engine.

Juni had only noticed that she was being chased towards the Invader cruiser when she saw the thing aim a turret at her and fire. Juni gasped in surprise and fear, but years of flying experience took over. Almost instinctively, she pulled up on the steering lever and fired her thruster, and not a moment too soon. The defender shuddered as the destructive bolt grazed its underside, shearing through the silver-grey armor as it passed by, landing full-force on Juni's surprised pursuer. The alien ship was incinerated.

With the introduction of the Invader cruiser, however, the tides of the battle were turned and set. That thing was devastating, destroying any human ships that came too close. And now, slowly creeping towards the Osiris, the burner ship Turmoil was moments away from firing its main weapon.

Orillion came back on the system channel, anger in his voice. "Another contact on approach, same as the last one. We can't hold them off, everyone retreat!" Orillion then switched to the faction channel. "Regroup in Omega-41." The comm. went silent, and the Osiris activated its cloaking device, fading from view. The remains of the human forces parted.

-----

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun rubbed his eyes. Were the monitors malfunctioning, or had the human battleship just disappeared? What did it do? Whatever it did, it didn't look like it was teleporting.

"Sir?" said armament, getting the captain's attention. "The clusterbeam is ready to fire."

Unasht snorted in disappointment. "Target the base, and fire the main cannon!"

-----

The Osiris had not drifted very far, and was close enough to watch as the new Invader cruiser fired its forward weapon cluster.

Orillion watched in horror from the bridge as a bright red glow began to emanate from the weapon's seven fixed barrels, pool together, and burst altogether as seven red energy beams erupted from the nose of the Invader cruiser. The beams screamed through space, impacting upon Freeport 9. The beams steadily burrowed into the base, digging straight down until they found the other side, blowing away huge gobs of molten metal as they punched through. After a few seconds of continuous fire, the beams became encased in a cloud of their own thick black contrails, and were now only visible as red lightning that roiled underneath.

As Orillion continued to watch, the alien cruiser pivoted, exposing the energy beams to parts of the dead base that were still untouched. The biodomes were ruptured, spewing geysers of white atmosphere into space. The residence hub was blown through. Orillion stood stock still as Freeport 9 was cut, cleaved, sliced and skewered, over and over, without cease.

Orillion closed his eyes and lowered his head, a long sigh of dismay escaping his lips. He couldn't watch any more. He announced his departure from the bridge and retreated to his quarters. He desperately needed a drink.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Omicron Theta system, 40 minutes later

The decimated remains of Freeport 9 spun slowly in the vacuum, orbited by clouds of debris, ranging in size from microscopic to as large as skiffs. Some pieces came from fighters, freighters and cargo vessels, but most were from the base itself, distinguishable by edges that had melted and solidified where Turmoil's clusterbeam weapon had cut through.

An Invader landing craft passed through the debris, its front bay door wide open, catching whatever happened to fall into the opening. The dropship, roughly resembling a manta ray, was not intended to perform in such a way. However, it was a common compensation to use the dropship to salvage debris instead of launching numerous fighters to gather it, a process which was much more time-consuming. At any rate, the gathered materials would be analyzed, piece by piece, and hopefully recognized for any value to the Invader military. It was important to 'know your enemy,' and right now the Invaders were attempting to bring their knowledge of the humans up to date.

It had taken the Invaders completely by surprise when the Osiris had cloaked, and nobody in the Invader society knew exactly what had happened to it. As the news would leak out, many rumors would spring forth, the most accurate that was to develop would be that the human battleship could turn invisible. Technically this was true, but only to its literal extent. The most common rumor would be that the humans had developed some kind of teleportation system of their own. The most appalling rumor that would develop was that the theory that Osiris had been spared through divine intervention. "Total nonsense," Invader military superiors would come to state flatly. "Our gods would never aid those who are united under the names of heathen demons." Nevertheless, those caught spreading the rumor would pay dearly for their wild speculation, punished through various methods of torture and public humiliation.

The dropship, its large bay nearly full, made one last pass through the cloud of debris before returning to the Relentless and handing over its findings. With the bay now completely full, dropship sealed the door and activated its teleportation system. The ship, along with its cargo, scratched itself out of existence.

-----

The thick blanket of high-altitude dust, suspended miles over the underlying terrain, was penetrated by the orange glare of a pulsating red giant, the variable host star of the Invader homeworld. This fluctuating Mira-type star filled a quarter of the sky, illuminating the rugged planetary landscape with a pulsating glow that ranged from bright orange to a deep red hue. One such feature that can bee seen in the shifting light is a towering snow-capped mountain, known by the local inhabitants as 'Messenger.' Each day as the land is heated by the alien sun, the snowcap begins to melt, forming several streams of water that flow down to the base of the mountain and dump their contents into a nearby lake. However, one such stream, before entering the lake, winds through the Invader capital, splitting into smaller streams and entering various buildings on the perimeter. One of these buildings is the Master's personal bathhouse.

Selestren-Kulam stood nearly waist deep in a pond of cool water with his powerful arms outstretched, feeling very relaxed. Wading around him, Selestren-Kulam was in the presence of five other beings who busied themselves scrubbing the leader clean. Although these beings were Invaders, they were not battle-hardened infantry of any kind. They were smaller than most soldiers, the largest only being six feet tall, still dwarfed by Selestren-Kulam's eight foot stance. They were not near as muscular as most soldiers, and their hair was trimmed short and present upon the majority of their bodies – also unlike the soldiers. And what made these Invaders different from ANY soldier was the fact that they, by nature, had no crest. They were unlike any Invader seen on the battlefront, the reason being that these Invaders were of a different gender – they were female.

Selestren-Kulam eyed each one of the females as they continued to bathe him, giving him constant positive support on his leadership and looks, as well as promising him good sex and a strong son. And that was the exact reason why they were in the Master's presence, here and now… Selestren-Kulam's crest was changing with the seasons, and was starting to turn a vivid yellow. He would need a mate soon. Several weeks ago he had started his search for acceptable candidates, and had since narrowed his choices down to the five females that currently surrounded him. To humans, these alien women would have looked greatly unattractive, but through Invader eyes, Selestren-Kulam saw them all as stunningly beautiful, and practically everything that he could ask for in a mate; they were loyal, dedicated and submissive. But only one of them would be given the honor of being the mother to his offspring, including an heir to his position as leader of the Invader race.

The Invader society is one that is totally male-dominated. In this culture, the women have only one job: breeding. They would couple with a male, mate, and hopefully yield a healthy offspring. If the child was female, the mother would raise her on her own. If the child was male, at the age of two months he would be handed over to the military and raised as a soldier (very few Invader soldiers know who their fathers are, and have few memories of their mothers). Despite the fact that it is supposed to be a great honor, some Invader women are be very reluctant to give their sons to the military and can become emotionally scarred as a result. Some go into depression and deny themselves the 'pleasure' of mating, while some of the more emotionally upset females turn rogue and seek out alliances with those who feel the same (most Invader rebels are female, due to these circumstances). Many are captured and executed, but some manage to hide from their oppressors, unite, and make an attempt strike back.

This was not the case for the mate or offspring of Invader leaders. Upon acceptance, the female was pulled from the common breeding ritual and were allowed to attend their offspring under the attentive (and sometimes commanding) eye of the father. This is how the first and only Invader family in accepted society had been formed six generations ago, with Selestren-Kulam now at its peak… and wishing to secure the future of his bloodline.

Selsestren-Kulam suppressed a smile as one of the surrounding women ran a wet rag down his right arm, cleaning his long black hair, pleasing him as she gently squeezed the superbly defined muscles, her hand traveling all the way down to his fingers.

"You are very powerful and handsome, Master," she said in a seductive tone. "I would be honored to give you a strong heir." Selestren-Kulam grunted appreciatively. The other Invader women took note of his reaction and closed in on the Invader leader, each one clamoring for his attention.

"Master, your leadership skills surpass that of your father's or his father's!"

"Should you choose me as your mate, Master, I promise that I will make it more than worth your while."

The bath was interrupted by a knock on the bathhouse door. Selestren-Kulam let his arms drop to his sides and motioned for the surrounding females to step out of the pond. Without hesitation, the females moved to the shoreline at the rear of the bathhouse.

Kulam stepped out of the pond. "Enter," he stated in a loud voice.

The iron door swung open and an Invader capital guard, donned in a significant amount of armor, stepped through and knelt in salute. "Master," he began in a humble manner, "one of your soldiers wishes to see you. He brings news from the battlefront."

Selestren-Kulam turned to the women, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon him. "Leave," Kulam stated flatly. The females looked disappointed, but they obediently knelt in salute and quietly walked single file out the door.

Kulam returned his attention to the capital guard. "Send him in."

"Yes Master." The guard rose and left, a few seconds later replaced by an unarmored soldier. The soldier saluted.

Kulam instantly recognized the soldier, but decided to make his identify himself anyways. "State your name, and position, soldier."

The soldier gave an inaudible huff or irritation. "Master, you know me as Orad-Porel, captain of the battleship Relentless. I bring… disturbing news from the battlefront."

Kulam frowned, already disliking this meeting. "Disturbing news? Tell me what you know."

"Yes Master. The first thing is that the Relentless was apparently infiltrated by rebels who planted a bomb by the reactor. The Relentless is currently unable to teleport."

"I already know that, soldier," Kulam said, crossing his arms. "What else?"

It came as a surprise to Orad that Selsestren-Kulam already knew this fact; the captain was supposed to be the first give out the information. But Orad knew better than to question his Master's sources and continued. "Master… the humans may have teleportation technology of their own."

Kulam scowled and stepped closer to the soldier. "What?" he asked in an angry voice.

Orad-Porel managed to hold back his sudden nervousness. "It was a human battleship at the battle, Master. When the burner ships closed in, it disappeared."

"Did you look for it?" Kulam demanded.

"Well… no, Master."

Selestren-Kulam was greatly angered by what he heard. Orad had allowed the human battleship to escape! Kulam walked right up to the soldier, determined to give him something to remember his inaction by. He had finally been presented with a reason to punish the captain, something that he had wanted to do for a long time.

"Turn your head, soldier." Kulam said casually. Orad nervously did as he was told.

Selestren-Kulam raised his right hand and swiped at Orad's face, his claws tearing through flesh and penetrated down to the bone, forming two long jagged gashes across the soldiers face, starting just below the eye and streaking across the maw, ending at the chin. Before Orad could react, Kulam formed his other hand into a fist and drove it into the soldier's stomach, bruising the underlying abdominal muscles. Orad-Porel exhaled explosively and doubled over, but was brought back up as the Invader leader planted a powerful right hook under Orad's chin. The soldier flipped over backwards, stunned and unable to get up. Kulam kicked the defeated Invader for good measure.

Selsetren-Kulam stood over a frightened Orad, a look of disgust on his face. "I despise you, Orad-Porel," he sneered. "I have held a great dislike for you for many years now. I personally wouldn't mind if I had to replace you, so I suggest that you don't make me see you as a liability, for your sake. Do you understand?" Wide-eyed, Orad nodded.

Kulam eyed the gashes upon the soldier's face, yellow blood now pouring out of the wounds. "You will not treat those wounds in any way, soldier," he said sternly. "You will not clean them; you will not stitch them. Are my orders clear?"

"Yes Master." Orad managed to croak.

"Good," Kulam said seriously. "Now make haste and return to the Relentless. Get out of my sight. NOW!" Orad wobbled to his feet and scrambled out the door.

-----

Many things had happened aboard the Osiris in the hour since the loss of Freeport 9. Lord Hakkera had left the ship and was attempting to sneak by the Invaders in Omicron Theta and talk to the Outcasts on Malta to speed up their decision on supplying aid. The Zoners and Corsairs in Omega-41 had been alerted to the Invader threat and were now in the process of deploying mines around the jumphole to Omicron Theta. And at long last, an exhausted colonel Kress had finally arrived from the Tau systems, and was now in the process getting some desperately needed sleep.

The hallways were quiet. Everybody either had somewhere to be or were in their quarters, mulling things over, worrying about friends, family, and what sort of affect the Invaders might have upon Sirius.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps as Jun'ko Zane walked swiftly towards Orillion's private quarters, located at the end of the hall. She was worried about him. After the Order's retreat, the commander had retreated to his room and refused to come out. Juni knew that he did this sometimes when he was stressed or worried, but never for this long.

Juni came to a halt in front of Orillion's door and sharply rapped knuckles upon it, then used the door-side keypad to open a communication link with the room. "Orillion?" she called into, hoping that he was there. "It's colonel Zane. Do you mind if I come in? I want to talk to you." Silence. Juni knocked on the door again. "Orillion, are you in there?" Still no response. Juni was about to walk away when a tired-sounding Orillion suddenly responded.

"Come in, Jun'ko," he said slowly, almost lazily.

_"Oh… he was sleeping,"_ Juni thought. This realization eased her worries greatly. Although her primary concern was null, Juni still wished to discuss some things with Orillion. She opened the door and entered.

Orillion's quarters was similar to the standard crew quarters, albeit more luxurious. It twice as big as the others, and was furnished with a blue queen size bed, a refrigerator, various storage areas, a sink with an underlying garbage chute, and a small bathroom.

"I'm sorry sir," Juni started apologetically as she stepped in. "I didn't know you were slee…"

Juni's words died in her throat when she saw Orillion. He was sitting at a small wooden table with two chairs. Orillion occupied the far seat, stooped forward, holding a large bottle that was three-fourths filled with a strange green fluid that was complemented with delicate wisps of purple. From her position, Juni could see that he commander's were glazed. He hadn't been sleeping. He was drunk.

Juni quickly closed the door and approached Orillion. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

Orillion stared at her. "Relaxing," he responded in a tired, slurred voice, as if the answer was very obvious. He picked up the bottle and held it out to her. "Want some?"

Juni took the bottle and sniffed its contents, wincing as her nose was hit by the drink's offensive odor. It was definitely alcoholic; it smelled MUCH stronger than the Liberty ale that she was used to, even more potent than the stuff that Trent sometimes drank.

"What is this stuff?" Juni asked her intoxicated commander.

Orillion suppressed a hiccup. "Stellar Rum," he finally said. "It's really good." He smiled at Juni and motioned to the other seat across at the table. "Sit down."

Against her better judgment, Juni, still holding the drink, heeded her superior's request and slid into the chair. Orillion smiled and moved to retrieve the bottle, but Juni pulled it out of his reach. The commander looked at the colonel with a why-are-you-doing-this-to-me expression on his face. Juni sighed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the man's lackluster attempt to guilt her into returning the rum. She was hoping that Orillion, in his altered state of mind, wasn't going to do anything stupid.

Juni looked at the drink, then at Orillion. "Orillion, why are you drinking this stuff?"

Orillion sat up, swaying slightly, giving Juni a blank stare. "I told you," he said, his words slurred together, "I'm relaxing."

Juni could smell the alcohol on Orillion's breath, and was already becoming aggravated by his nonsensical answers. "With something as strong as this!" she remarked, showing him the bottle. Orillion made another grab for the bottle, but again the colonel pulled it away. "Why?" Juni asked again.

Orillion's expression remained blank. "I like to relax," he said, his words blending into each other.

Juni huffed in aggravation and looked down at the table. _"What am I going to do with you, Orillion?"_ the thought to herself. _"What am I going to do?"_

"You're very pretty."

Juni quickly pulled her head up and looked up at her commander, a bewildered look on her face. "What?"

Orillion looked a Juni, a stupid smile forming across his lips. "I said you're very beautiful."

Juni was taken aback by Orillion's remark. "Please, Orillion, stop. You know I'm already spoken for."

"No really," Orillion insisted, speaking clearly enough to be understood, "You have great legs, a pretty face, and a magnificent bosom…" he made an impressed whistle, or at least tried. "…you are a good-looking woman."

Orillion's remark put Juni very on-edge. Sure, she was used to men approaching her in such a manner, but that was only in the bar. She could tolerate it coming from someone she didn't know, but coming from Orillion, not to mention the way he said it… to plainly put it, it was very creepy. Juni had a decent amount of sense telling her to leave, but she decided to stay, if only out of the respect she held for her commander.

Juni leaned forward, a stern look in her face. "Don't do that," she said in a serious voice. "I don't like it."

Orillion made another attempt to retrieve the rum, this time succeeding in pulling it from Juni's grasp. "Well, la-di-dah," the man retorted, taking a swig from the bottle. "I complement you and you bitch about it." Juni's eyes went wide at Orillion's rudeness. The commander downed another gulp of the Stellar Rum and gave the woman a glassy stare. "Face it, Juni," he started, now more drunk than before, "No matter what you say, its not gonna change the fact that a lot of guys think you're attractive." He lowered his unfocused gaze onto her body and grinned. "…probably even more so underneath those clothes."

For Juni, enough was enough. Orillion had just crossed the line and officially pissed her off. She no longer had any will to tolerate the drunken man or his lewd remarks. "That is too much!" she shouted, swiftly rising to her feet and almost knocking the table over in the process. "You are being a vulgar, insensitive ass!" She snatched the bottle away from Orillion and quickly made her way to the sink, and began to drain the bottle's contents into the basin.

"Hey!" Orillion protested, not having risen from his seat, "That rum's expensive, you know!" Ignoring the complaint, Juni finished pouring the alcohol into sink and threw the empty bottle into the trash chute.

"A vulgar, tactless, insensitive ass!" Juni loudly repeated, spinning on her heels and marched to the door, all the time Orillion watching speechlessly, a confused expression fixed upon his face.

Juni glared at Orillion. "Next time you're depressed, why don't you call me for help!" she exclaimed as she opened the door. "See if I give a damn!" With that Juni stormed out of the room, the door closing behind her.

-----

It had only been a few minutes since Juni had left to talk to Orillion, but Trent, knowing how his fiancée was, had become compelled enough to leave his room and join them. Trent knew that normally Juni could handle herself when she was troubled, but after thinking it out, he came to the conclusion that if Orillion, leader and backbone of the human resistance, was incapacitated, and the Invaders advanced into Omega-41… this might worry Juni like the situation with Ashcroft over two years ago, right before the war with the nomads. She had been really scared, and seeing her like that had made Trent feel sorry for her. And he had barely known Juni back then, at a time when he saw her as little more than an employer. Now they were engaged, and Trent cared deeply for Jun'ko. He definitely didn't want to see her that upset again, so he decided to join her with Orillion to coax things along, if necessary.

Trent turned a corner and the door to Orillion's quarters swung into view. But as he approached, the door suddenly opened, and Trent saw a very cross Juni standing in the doorway, looking back into the room.

"…see if I give a damn!" Trent heard her shout.

"Whoa," Trent thought. "What happened here?"

With her head down in anger, Juni started to speedily march down the hall towards Trent, muttering something inconspicuous under her breath. It was a few seconds before she looked up, saw her fiancé, and came to a stop.

"Jun'ko, what happened in there?" Trent asked as he walked up to her.

Juni huffed and pointed a thumb back at Orillion's door. "Let's just say that Orillion makes a very raunchy drunk."

"He drinks?" Trent asked, surprised.

"Apparently so." Juni took hold of Trent's arm and started to lead him back down the hall, wanting to put a good amount of distance between them and their inebriated commander.

"What did he do?" Trent asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

Juni stopped abruptly and glared at her companion. "What do you think he did!" she retorted in an aggressive tone.

"Whoa, calm down," Trent soothed. "I was just asking."

Juni's expression softened. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm just a bit rattled by what he said back there… it was really creepy."

"It's alright," Trent said reassuringly, "I bet it was a pretty uneasy situation." He gently tugged his arm out of the woman's grasp and slid it around her waist, coaxing her to his side as they resumed walking and disappeared down the hall, their footsteps fading into the distance.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system. 4 days later

The gathered debris from the remains of Freeport 9 was piled up against the wall of an unadorned storage chamber that lay deep inside the Invader battleship Relentless. While normally a very quiet room, it was currently filled with noise and activity as several Invader soldiers rooted through the metal, picking up and analyzing anything that they found interesting. If the soldier came to believe that object held some potential importance, it was placed in a large bin. If not, it was deposited into a trash pile at the back of the room.

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun gave a grunt of dissatisfaction as he inspected yet another nameless piece of junk before turning around and tossing it into the ever growing waste pile. He did not want to be here, sorting through human trash. He had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. The soldier didn't even know why he was here. All Unasht knew was that he had been assigned to do this job right after his commander, Orad-Porel, returned after meeting Selestren-Kulam at the Invader capital.

Although Unasht was angry towards his superior, He was humbled by just how close Orad must have been to the great leader; imagine meeting the Master face to face! Unasht made a mental note to double his efforts. Perhaps someday he would become important enough to be allowed in the presence of Master Selestren-Kulam.

As he picked up another piece of foreign metal, Unasht heard a distant rumble and smiled as he realized what it was. Finally, after four days, the Relentless' mechanics had finished repairing the main reactor and were now attempting to ignite it. Once operating, the battleship would be ready for battle. Orad-Porel would no doubt be pleased.

Unasht's smile faded slightly as he heard the reactor wind down and fall silent. The device hadn't started up. Fortunately, this didn't really mean anything. It was not uncommon for an Invader battleship reactor to fail the first few ignition attempts. The mechanics would more than likely take a few minutes to reset the power plant's physical systems and try again.

Reverting back to the task at hand Unasht glanced at the object that lay in the palm of his large hand. Now THIS was interesting. The object he held was an unpainted metal box. Rotating the device, the soldier saw that the box was a 3'x3'x3' cube, perfect in its shape, save for a small cylindrical inset at the top and a tiny electrical port located near the bottom. "What is it?" Unasht wondered. Performing a closer inspection, the soldier noticed that the inset at the top had several tiny seams – it could be opened. The Invader placed the tip of his clawed thumb upon the inset, and with a little effort, he broke it open. The soldier smiled. Perhaps, he hoped, whatever lay inside the box could reveal a great deal about the humans and their technology. But as he turned the box upside down, Unasht was surprised to find that the device was filled with what looked to be very fine silver sand. The Invader watched as sand poured out of the box and made a small pile on the floor. Unasht-Nevtul-Muun grunted as his hopes were thrashed. The box was useless. Its contents were useless. The disappointed soldier swept the sand away, threw the empty cube into the waste pile, and began to search some more.

-----

Today had been an overall good day for Orillion. After talking to Barbara Jacobi, the president of Liberty had once again shown her support of the Order and delivered a large care package containing various necessities, including food, water, and a variety of medicines. Lord Hakkera had safely made it to Malta and had just called to inform the Order that the Outcasts had finally agreed to help. Thanks to the effects of the cardamine, the Outcasts were extremely wise and knowledgeable, and capable of building advanced ships and weaponry. Orillion hoped that this would give the Order a leg up in the fight against the Invaders.

But there was one thing that was still bothering Orillion – After the destruction of Freeport 9, he had retreated to his cabin to calm himself down. There he had tried a new brand of alcohol, drastically underestimated its effects, and got totally wasted. It was during that time that colonel Zane had dropped by to talk. Orillion didn't really remember what had happened, but apparently he really upset the young woman - so much that she had been avoiding him ever since the incident. He needed to apologize. That's why Orillion had talked to Trent and arranged to meet him and Jun'ko in their quarters at an arranged time.

The sound of Orillion's determined footfalls echoed slightly as the Order commander walked down the residence hall and stopped by a certain door. He glanced at his watch and saw the luminous red numbers blink 8:30 standard time – the time that he had agreed to meet the two colonels in their room. Orillion cleared his mind, slowly lifted up his hand and knocked on the door. Hopefully Juni would be in a listening mood.

-----

When you stepped inside, it was easy to see that this personnel cabin was more cluttered than most. But that was because it was occupied by two people, both present. The first, sitting at a small table, was a bretonian native in his late twenties with blond hair, blue eyes, and a somewhat rugged appearance. The second, sitting on the bed across the room, was a woman in her mid-twenties with black hair and facial features that portrayed a mix of Kusari and Libertarian traits.

Edison Trent looked across the room at his fiancée, who upon noticing his gaze, merely huffed and crossed her arms. Juni was not happy that Trent wouldn't let her leave the room, even less so when he told her why.

"I don't want to do this," she stated bluntly, loud enough for Trent to hear.

"I know you don't, Jun'ko," Trent told her. "But I talked to Orillion and we both agreed that you two need to talk."

Juni huffed again, this time crossing her legs. "He can talk, but don't expect me to listen."

"Look, will you just do this please?" Trent pleaded.

The sound of someone knocking on the door caught the pair's attention. "Colonel Trent? Colonel Zane?" Orillion's voice came through the cabin's intercom. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Trent looked at Juni. "Please, Jun'ko. Don't be selfish like this. Just hear him out so we can put this whole thing behind us."

Juni collected her thoughts, outwardly apparent as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Fine," she said, opening her eyes.

Trent smiled in appreciation and turned to the door. "Come on in, Orillion."

The door slid open and Casper Orillion stepped through. He gave the colonels a respective nod. Trent returned the gesture, whilst Juni only gave him a stern look. _"So this is how it's going to be,"_ Orillion thought. He approached the table and upon receiving a permissive gesture from Trent, the commander pulled out the empty chair and promptly sat down. Immediately he turned to face Juni.

"Colonel Zane," he started, "I want to apologize for what happened the other day."

-----

To most, mister Blix was mute. The man had no voice, totally silent. However, this was not the case when he was contacting beings of a higher realm through the use of a very special Dom Kavash artifact. During this time his body became the physical channel from where hundreds of voices could be heard, all of them speaking simultaneously. The speakers were always the same and spoke in a tongue that only mister Blix understood; nobody else could.

Despite being mute, Blix, with the help of the artifact, could establish a psychic link with another person and convey what he had heard. The person that mister Blix most commonly told was a Rheinlander named Jonner, his trusted colleague.

Jonner sat nearby as mister Blix activated the hemispherical artifact and opened his mouth, letting forth the sound of a hundred voices. The voices cried out for several seconds, saying what they had to say, and then falling silent.

Blix closed his mouth and looked at Jonner with an intrigued look. _"There is a new voice among them," _he conveyed to Jonner.

_"That is odd,"_ Jonner conveyed back. _"What did it say?"_

_"It is most interesting,"_ Blix telepathically replied.

"_Darkness emerges from the void,_

_Fingers creeping towards the goal._

_Shining faces have been obscured_

_And razors played across my home._

_Many try, many fail,_

_Trouble persists._

_It awakens, it ponders,_

_The white light, and it has spoken."_

-----

"…as a matter of fact," Orillion added after Juni had calmed down, "why don't you two go home for a while?"

"What?" asked a bewildered Trent.

_"I have no idea why I'm doing this,"_ Orillion thought. "You two deserve a rest," he said. "With the support of the Outcasts, Corsairs and Zoners, I think that I can afford to set you loose for a while."

Trent and Juni stared at Orillion in disbelief. Why was he doing this? He needed every pilot he could get his hands on.

Juni spoke up. "Orillion, you need us here."

"I insist," Orillion said. "You two have put your necks on the line many times for me. It's time you're actions were rewarded."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. And I'm not going to budge from my decision." This was a lie. Orillion still didn't know why he was sending two of his best pilots away.

The two corporals looked at each other. Trent saw that even though Juni didn't necessarily agree with the decision, she did want to go home, at least for a while. Trent was neutral on the situation.

"Alright," Juni finally said. "We'll go. Just contact us if you need help." Trent made no objection.

Orillion put on a friendly smile. "Good. Do you need an escort?"

"Nah," Trent responded. "I know how to get to Liberty from here." Juni shot him a quizzical look. "Well I do," Trent said, shrugging.

"Alright," Orillion interrupted, "I will leave you two alone now. Safe journey." Orillion got up to leave.

"Oh, Orillion," Juni called after him. "Thanks for apologizing."

-----

Unasht-Nevtul-Muun listened intently as sound of the main reactor winding up, this time ending in a muffled explosion. Unasht smiled. Good! The reactor had completed a cycle and was now operational! The Relentless was once again ready to take the fight to the enemy.

Almost immediately afterward another Invader, searching the scrap, called out.

"Look at this!" Curious, the other Invaders, including Unasht, crowded around to see what had been found.

As Unasht peered over the crowd, he saw what everyone was looking at. There, slowly rotating in the air, a hologram of a group of clouds, each one a different color. Nestled in between these clouds were pinpricks of light, each one representing a star.

It was a map of Sirius.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Battleship Relentless, Omicron Theta system. 5 hours later

Orad-Porel tapped a toe claw impatiently on the deck plates as he anxiously awaited the signal to engage the battleship's teleportation system. He was ready – no, he was MORE than ready. More than ready to feel the thrill of battle again, more than ready to take the fight to the enemy, more than ready to conquer the inhabitants of Sirius. The problem, however, was that the other warships were not ready.

The map had revealed a great amount of information on the human-held systems. Now, under the orders of Master Selestren-Kulam, the Invader battleship fleet planned to attack strategically important human systems all at once, greatly crippling the enemy before they had a chance to react. Orad liked the plan; it required courage and bravery from the Invaders, and would most likely put them in the middle of a large battle. Orad preferred no lesser fight.

As Orad moved behind his command pedestal/teleporter controls, he mentally reviewed the systems which would be attacked first. The battleship Retribution would be attacking the system dubbed BG-1-4, which lay just outside the orange cloud. The battleship Foreboding would seize the system labeled as BGr-3-4, right next to the blue nebula. The Relentless' sister ship, the Grudge, would attack the system labeled W-2-3, beyond the ice cloud. As for the Relentless… Orad planned to place her in the system that stood dead center in the middle of the map.

-----

The midmorning sun found its way through the thick haze and dimly illuminated the rugged landscape of the Invader homeworld.

The news of the find of a detailed human map had put Selestren-Kulam in an unusually good mood. Such a good mood, in fact, that for the first time in many years, Kulam left the protective walls of the capital and headed solo into the surrounding woods to hunt for food. He did not bring any weapons with him; by custom, Invaders rarely hunted with anything more than bare hands and instinct - it was a show of strength.

Selestren-Kulam, for one of his size, crept quietly between the thick trees and sniffed at the air in the hopes of catching the scent of nearby prey. No luck so far. Nothing had passed here in a few hours.

After meandering for a while, Kulam dropped to all fours and brought his nose to the dirt, trying to find a trail he could follow. There. Among the smells of plants, soil and rotting leaves, Kulam's keen senses detected the scent of a decent sized quadruped called a mapulk.

_"Good,"_ Kulam thought. _"Their meat is flavorful, and they could put up quite a fight with their heavy spiked tail. I'm going to enjoy this."_ Kulam rose and quickly began the pursuit.

A few minutes later, Selsetren-Kulam could smell that the mapulk very close by. He picked up the pace, following the trail into a small clearing. There, a mere thirty feet away, was the Mapulk. Grinning, Kulan stepped closer.

But something was seriously wrong with the animal. As Kulam neared the Mapulk, he saw that it was lying on its side, shaking uncontrollably. As the animal convulsed, Kulam got a glimpse of its beak-like mouth filling with foam as it gurgled in agony. The Mapulk's spiked tail, once a powerful weapon, now flopped around aimlessly and repeatedly smashed into the ground.

A loud hiss caught the Invader leader's attention. Looking down, his eyes fell upon a small grey lizard with a large bright blue frill. Kulam instantly became wary of the lizard as he realized what it was.

The lizard hissed again and presented two large fangs in the direction of the interfering Invader, causing Kulam to take a step back. The frilled reptile, not even reaching a foot in length, deserved a great amount of respect. It was a territorial creature, and a very dangerous one at that: the lizard's fangs carried an extremely powerful neurotoxin that would cause an unfortunate victim to go into seizures and perish a few minutes later. (This is what had happened to the mapulk – it had accidentally stumbled onto the lizard's burrow)

"So much for that meal," Kulam whispered as the mapulk's convulsions started to slow. The lizard faked a charge at the Invader and halted, hissing and fluttering its frill in warning. Kulam growled as if to scare off the lizard, but still the Invader cautiously backed away.

-----

Michael King stepped onto the bridge of the Osiris and made a beeline for Orillion. It wasn't that he had important news, though; he just wanted to ask the man a question.

"Orillion sir, have you seen Trent or Juni lately?" King asked the Order leader.

Orillion turned and gave King a slightly quizzical glance. "I sent them home five hours ago," he answered. "Didn't they tell you?"

"What? Oh…yeah they did. But why'd you let them go? I think you should have let them stay."

Orillion hesitated. "Well… to tell you the truth, I don't really know. Something inside my head just told me it would be for the best."

King gave the Order leader a concerned look. "That's not like you."

"I know," Orillion sighed. "It's just that it felt like it would pay off somehow."

The following uneasy silence was broken when the bridge doors slid open and Sinclair stepped onto the bridge.

Sinclair approached Orillion. "Commander Orillion, sir…" Sinclair stopped when she saw King.

"Kendra," King said, giving her a weak smile.

"King," Sinclair responded coldly, crossing her arms. "I didn't know that you were here."

"Been here for a few days. What've you been up to?"

"Translating," Sinclair said flatly. "Speaking of which…" Sinclair brushed past King and approached her commander. "Orillion, sir, I am glad to report that we have finally shed some light on the Invaders."

Now THAT was good news. "Congratulations, doctor!" Orillion cracked a large grin. "What have you discovered?"

Sinclair smiled. "We have uncovered their origins and parts of their dialect."

"Did you get that from the translating their communications?"

Sinclair shook her head. "No, sir. We actually got it from one of our archived Dom Kavash tablets. Apparently they knew about the Invaders."

"The tablets?"

Again, Sinclair nodded. "Correct. I realized that some of the pronunciations in the recording were similar to those that were on a very unusual tablet that I had studied a while back. Quintaine and I went and found the tablet, analyzed it, and discovered that it is what we believe to be a brief recording of several Invader languages."

Orillion was curious about how the Dom Kavash came across such knowledge. "You said that you also found out where the Invaders came from. Just where is it?"

"We have put the coordinates from the tablet into the computer and factored in stellar drift, sir. If we're right, the Invader's homesystem lies within a well-aged irregular dwarf galaxy known as G-32."

Orillion rubbed his bald head. "I have never heard of that galaxy before."

"Not many people have. The majority of the galaxy lies within an enormous cloud of dark matter. The only way we actually know that it's there is because we've detected the faint traces of radiation that the stars in the galaxy are giving off. G-32 is over 185,000 light years away from Sirius… The Invaders have traveled a long distance to fight."

-----

Orad's control panel blared and a ninety second countdown appeared upon the pedestal's screen. The battleships were now synched and ready to attack.

_"At last,"_ Orad thought. _"The humans shall feel our wrath. They will see what a truly battle worthy ship can do!"_

"Armament!" Orad shouted. "Prepare the weapons! Engines, prepare to ignite!" As the countdown ticked past thirty seconds, Orad did something he had never done before; he went into a pre-battle speech.

"Today, soldiers, will be a day that we will experience a war, one that such has not been seen in fifty-three years, since the climax of the Great Unification! It is because of that epic war that has made us who we are today. Now let us see to it that this war carries that trait! Let the humans cower in fear in the shadow of our might! Let the rising sun shine down upon a new order, in a new home! We shall fight! We shall win! We shall be victorious and rule over all!"

With ten seconds to go, Orad-Porel secured a grip on the teleportation system's engaging switch. At five seconds, his long face pulled itself into a cruel smile.

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Zero.

Orad eagerly pulled the lever and engaged the system.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Planet Manhattan, New York System. 30 minutes earlier

Trent took a deep whiff as he stepped through the door to his house, smelling the familiar air. Home, sweet home.

Trent and Juni's choice of residence was slightly smaller than most, with an interior that was not overly furnished, but was still decently decorated with common luxuries, such as a rug, sofa, and television in the living room, and a set of chairs and table in the kitchen,.

"Well," Trent started after crashing onto the blue couch in the living room, "although it was surprising that Orillion let us go, it's good to be home."

Juni took a seat next to him. "I'll have to agree with you on that." She gave Trent a small smile.

For Juni, the long trip back home had been, although different, quite uneventful. Trent had led her through several Border World systems that she had only heard of before, and it was obvious that Trent had mapped a good portion of them while he had been exploring Sirius before he finally decided to settle down and bought himself a home on planet Manhattan.

Juni knew that Trent had made a large amount of money while on his travels, and she had always been somewhat skeptical on just how he had attained it. Now she was certain on where at least some of the credits had come from. While passing through Omega-5, they had been hailed by both Corsair and Red Hessian fighters who, upon speaking to Trent, had allowed them to pass without incident. Juni disapproved of such direct ties with the criminal element, but decided to say nothing of it; with the current situation of with the Invaders, now was not the best time for her to question Trent's past alliances.

"Juni? Is something wrong?" Trent sensed that something was on Juni's mind.

"No, nothing's wrong… I'm just thinking."

"About…

Juni answered truthfully. "About you."

Trent edged up next to his fiancée and put his arm around her shoulders. Almost involuntarily Juni tilted her head to rest it upon Trent's shoulder and was filled with a sense of soothing comfort, her worries forgotten. Yes, this would do. For now, everything was fine… everything was safe.

Juni suppressed a yawn. The trip back had left her fighting to stay awake. Although she had managed to keep from dozing off during the trip, she was now losing the battle, in the comfort of her home and loving man – at least it was a good time to fall asleep. As her eyelids grew heavy, she pushed herself up against Trent before pleasantly slipping into her subconscious.

Trent felt Juni go limp against him as she fell asleep. He smiled and took the liberty of stroking her brow with his free hand.

"Pleasant dreams, Jun'ko."

-----

Six hand-picked scientists, including Quintaine and Sinclair, were gathered together in a small room, their attention upon a Dom Kavash tablet. But this tablet was different than most others within the archives. While the others were usually dotted here and there with large otherworldly runes, this particular tablet was crammed from border to border with tiny scrawling words that represented various Invader dialects, as well as including a set of coordinates at the top right hand corner.

"Keeneesh… terartat… jofuurmynt." Sinclair slowly read aloud, pronouncing the tiny alien words that were scrawled upon the ancient Dom Kavash tablet.

"What do you suppose it means?" came the accented question from a rheinland scientist.

"We don't know." Quintaine replied, taking a step towards the tablet. "Not yet, anyways. As you know, the translations themselves are difficult to decipher."

There was an uneasy silence. No one was quite sure what to say.

"What could we do with the ability to translate the Invader languages?" The silence was broken by a libertarian man.

Quintaine shifted his gaze onto the man. "We could learn about planned attacks before they occur, and eavesdrop on any comments that might point out a weakness in their battleships."

"Oh… yeah." The libertarian nodded in understanding.

Sinclair turned from the tablet and glanced over the audience. Well, you know that we are all here to decipher the Invader languages. I am told that you all have at least some experience in translating Dom Kavash calligaphy, am I right?" Everybody nodded in agreement. "Good," Sinclair said, smiling. "Then lets get to work to on… translating the translations."

Everybody in the room huddled around the tablet and began to work.

-----

Juni looked around, wonder where she was, or rather, where everything was. There was nothing here. There was no sky, no ground… just black emptiness as far as she could see.

A desperate male voice pierced the empty air. "Get out! "Get out now!"

Juni was bewildered. How did she get here? Who was talking? And why did it want her to leave?

"Leave!" A large white fire appeared some distance away and started to move towards Juni. She felt no alarm as it approached – she had seen it before, it was harmless. But as it ground itself to a halt in front of her, the fire transformed into a giant gold eye. It was like no eye she had ever seen before; it stared at her with a diamond-shaped pupil.

The eye momentarily held a curious appearance to it as it seemed to analyze Juni. Then the eye spoke again, but what it said this time it made Juni really nervous: it spoke in a voice that she had not heard in a long time.

"You must go! Now!" The eye spoke in the voice of Van Pelt, with the exact same tone when he had told her to flee Liberty over two years ago.

Juni just stood there, rooted the spot, staring at the eye as it stared right back. After a few seconds the eye hesitated and looked away momentarily. When it looked back, however, the iris had turned yellow and the pupil had transformed into a narrow slit. It glared at her in a malicious manner.

"We're here…" it said in a nightmarish voice that sent chills down Juni's spine. Solid red flames shot out of the pupil and engulfed the woman, eating her alive. Juni screamed – and then woke up.

-----

"…are the Corsairs preparing to attack the colonies? Reports from Friestadt Outpost shows that the number of Corsairs in Omega-7 has increased dramatically. More on this when CNS returns."

Trent jabbed a button on the remote and turned off the TV. _"If they only knew,"_ he thought sadly.

Trent turned his head to look at Juni, who was still cuddled up against him, sleeping. A concerned smile tugged at the edge of edge of his lips as the image of Juni in her peaceful slumber made Trent wonder into thought. How much longer would the Order have to fight the Invaders? When would they finally be able to marry and truly be together? These thoughts weighed heavily on Trent's mind.

From out of the corner of his eye, Trent noticed Juni's lips twitch and pull themselves into a frown. Trent felt Juni shudder. Trent, sensing that his fiancée was experiencing a bad dream, wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to calm her down. Suddenly Juni screamed and bolted upright, ripping herself out of Trent's grasp and giving him quite a scare.

Juni scrambled into a sitting position, her heart pounding as she frantically looked around, trying to figure out where the eye had taken her. As her eyes began to focus, however, her vision fell upon the familiar surroundings of home. Realizing this, Juni concentrated on calming herself down, as well as trying to understand what the eye had said.

"Jun'ko? Are you alright?" came Trent's voice from behind.

Juni thought back to the dream. "Get out…" she whispered softly.

"What?"

Juni was hit with a revelation. She now understood what the eye had said. She needed to get out of Liberty. She needed to leave… because _they_ were coming… the Invaders were coming.

At that moment, about seven K away from Manhattan, the battleship Relentless suddenly came into existence.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Invader homeworld, G-32 galaxy

At the Invader capital, it was the time of day where dusk had passed and dawn had yet to come. Those who resided within the capital had settled down for the night, and with the guards standing motionless upon the walls, activity within the fortress had come to a complete standstill.

But on this night, there were two exceptions.

Selestren-Kulam stood wide-awake in the capital's large central courtyard, his powerful figure illuminated by the wall-mounted torches, attending to business. This business was not military-related, however: it delved into personal matters. Accompanying him was Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei, one of the females he had chosen as a potential mate. Selsetren-Kulam had arranged for her to be with him on this particular night and converse with him so he could come to know her, find out how she thinks, and discover just what made her the being she was. But the simple purpose: it was a trial, part of the elimination process to find the best mate.

Like all females, Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei was much shorter than the glorified Invader leader, standing by human measurements at just under six feet in height. The majority of her body was covered in dark grey hair that was trimmed to an attractive length, about one inch, thinning out to nothing aaround the face, hands, and feet. The hair partially hid Essehui's well-defined muscles – their size was one that was common in Invader women, but still much smaller in comparison to those found upon their male counterparts. Though few knew bothered to notice, she was a very intelligent female, with a serene face and bright eyes; features that Essehui hoped Selestren-Kulam would find attractive.

"The battleships should be beginning their attack on the humans now," Kulam said, his attention upon the female.

"As the divine have requested," Essehui replied, looking directly into the leader's eyes, with an expression of confidence and respect for the male.

Kulam turned his attention to the night sky. There was not much to look at, however. With the system completely contained within the dark matter nebula, there were no stars to be seen; only the dim image of being inside of a curving tunnel of dust, dust that trailed behind the planet as it was pulled out of the upper atmosphere by the sun's powerful solar winds. For many seconds Kulam watched as the dust crept away into the great beyond at an astonishingly slow pace before curving away and disappearing beyond the horizon.

Essehui followed Kulam's gaze and craned her neck to look skywards. Her attention, however, was focused not on the dust but upon space as a whole. Her mind delved into memories.

"Paerkye sul neefei," she whispered, speaking in her native tribal tongue.

"What?" Kulam turned his gaze back onto Essehui.

Essehui smiled inwardly, having gotten the reaction she had wanted. "It means 'from above.'" She returned her attention to the sky. "My mother taught it to me when I was young. It's from an ancient tribal legend of hers that told of a time when the gods once came down from the sky and spoke to my ancestors."

Kulam was intrigued. He had never expected for the female to talk about the religious history of her tribe, much less speak in her native language. This could put an interesting twist in their conversation.

Selsetren-Kulam could only assume that Essehui had translated the words truthfully - such dialects were not known to the male, thanks to the military gender regulation. Foreign tongues were only known to females, whose mothers would often teach it to them. The use of the languages in speech was very rarely performed, except for naming newborn Invaders, however, ever since Kulam's ancestor had led the Great Unification crusade and united all the Invader tribes under one ruler, language, and religion.

Kulam casually glanced at Essehui, noting how she, as all females, was small and feeble compared to him. And only Kulam knew the reason why. During his time as ruler, he had learned that before the Great Unification, the Invaders on the planet had been split into hundreds of tribes that constantly fought each other for thousands of years. Over countless generations the males of the tribes would fight to the death for land, food, and territory. It was during this time of constant war that the males, then about the same size as the females, grew larger, stronger, and faster, all for the sake of besting their enemies in battle. This trend would have most likely continued had it not been for the introduction of advanced technology and fighting techniques that Kulam's ancestor had introduced to the battlefield during his famed crusade.

"Tell me, Essehui-Guiuteem-Ofnei," Kulam started, breaking the silence, "Why do you speak about your family's past?"

Essehui answered with carefully chosen words. "Because we should learn from the mistakes we make. My tribe made the mistake of worshipping false gods, and we crumbled under the power of yours. Your gods aided you, and they aid you now, so surely they must be real." She cast Kulam an attentive eye. "I will tell you that I have come to realize that it is our religion that holds our society together. Should we once again idolize gods that are false, history would repeat and we will collapse into untold years of tribal warfare."

The Invader leader struggled to the hide the fact that Essehui had totally blown him away with her reasoning. He hadn't expected ANY response from a female to be that intelligent. He could now see that she was a very strategic thinker, insightful and daring to challenge rule that were not set in stone… he liked that.

Kulam allowed himself a slight smile. As a mating candidate, Essehui had just put herself ahead of the game.

-----

The Liberty Navy had significantly stepped up their patrols and safety measures in the past few days, the reason being that the Outcasts had made daring attacks on several key areas within Liberty Space. No one could have suspected, though, that the attacks were tied to the both Order and President Jacobi, and was all part of a grand scheme to protect Liberty.

Liberty's system of checks and balances in the government would prevent the president from increasing military activity inside its own space without a just reason. Jacobi knew this all too well, and so she had contacted Orillion, and with the consent of the Outcasts, they had arranged for multiple remotely controlled Outcast ships to come in, fire their guns for a while, and allow the Navy to destroy them. It was a simple task, but it would scare the politicians enough that they would not only allow, but encourage a buildup of naval defense. It had worked, almost too well; now there was a battleship at most major location in Liberty.

The armored skin of the Liberty battleship LNS Michigan was once again touched by white sunlight as it pulled out from behind planet Manhattan in its continuous thirty-minute low-orbit patrol. The ship looked all the more majestic as it bathed in the lambent glory the emanated from the life-giving fire at the center of the system.

That is, until it disappeared in the shadow of another ship, heard the cries for help, to save them from a self-declared tyrant of space, the outstretched arm of that which ruled with an iron fist that took pleasure in strangling its opponents till their bodies fell forever still. This is what the Michigan saw as it first saw Newark and Trenton Outpost in a light that had become tainted with the blood.

"To all Liberty peacekeeping forces, this is battleship Michigan above planet Manhattan! A massive unknown ship has somehow bypassed the planetary defense grid and has opened fire! Trenton and Newark are taking significant damage! To all ships in the area, converge and attack!"

On the bridge of the Michigan, Captain Janet Grayson terminated the signal, silently praying that there was a support group nearby. That monster absolutely dwarfed anything in the Liberty arsenal! What _is_ that thing! Who built it? Why was it attacking… and how do you take it down? That last question was the major priority in Captain Grayson's book. She was about to order her crew to scan the ship, but then decided against it… the target was simply too large to make an effective search. Scanning object that size would take several minutes… time she didn't have. Therefore, the captain just had to resort to thinking with her head, as well as her gut instinct for her strategies and quick decisions.

Captain Grayson analyzed the ship, scouting out for a weakness. The first thing she took note of was its cannons. They had an unbelievably long range, over three times the reach of the Michigan's. So a direct assault was ruled out. What about fighters? Yes, launching fighter attacks on the ship just might work. But did the red ship have fighters of its own? The captain turned to 2nd Lieutenant Peter Warnack, the small man who ran the Michigan's sensory equipment.

"Lieutenant Warnack, run a long-range scan. See if that thing has any fighters."

"Yem, M'am," Warnack responded in his unusually high voice. He put his hands to work, rapidly entering a series of commands, the computer making audible pings in response. A few seconds later, the scan was completed.

"M'am, there is no evidence of the ship having fighter support."

Grayson found this a little confusing. A ship that large could be vulnerable to an attack by smaller ships. Also, due to its size, it would be extremely easy to hit it with torpedoes from a distance. Nevertheless, the captain decided to take advantage of the situation and sent the order to scramble the fighters.

-----

Orad-Porel Looked at the monitors mounted on the walls of the bridge of his battleship, enjoying the videos of the antimatter turrets discharge and sending their destructive orbs at the human stations, eating away at their protective shells to claim the lives of those who dwelled within. The site was invigorating, and made him happy.

Orad started to smile, but quickly stopped at he felt pain in his lips. He swore under his breath. The two jagged wounds that Selestren-Kulam had inflicted upon his muzzle were tender, and had become the ugly off-white color that signaled an infection. Already the affected areas had started to swell, noticeably distorting his battle-hardened face. Orad hated the wounds, and hated the Master for doing this to him, and he silently cursed Kulam's name, and muttered 'Koshadah,' the name of an unholy being that had once fought the gods for control over the universe. Thankfully, Koshadah was defeated and his spirit destroyed, but not before he tainted the perfect faces of many worlds the gods had created.

Suddenly Orad came to a realization. The humans… they must have been one of the evils made by Koshadah's yellow hands, the product of the evil that had once brought the universe to the brink of total chaos, the abomination that had made his body from the blood of the righteous beings he had slain. The humans were Koshadah's servants. And the gods had sent the Invaders on a holy crusade to destroy them. Orad immediately repented his hatred of Selestren-Kulam and blessed his being, and thanked him for inflicting the wounds upon his face. To Orad, the wounds were no longer a punishment. They were now a reminder to uphold the will of the gods.

With newfound determination, Orad returned his attention to the monitors and continued surveying the attack. It was at this time that he noticed a large silver spot on the monitors moving out from behind the planet. It was still too far away to make out what it was, but Orad-Porel took no chances.

Orad swiveled his head towards an Invader at one particular station. "Armament! Open fire on that object coming from behind the planet!"

-----

On board the Michigan, Captain Grayson was busy thinking up new battle tactics when a bright red orb suddenly roared by the battleship's starboard side.

"What the hell…" she said, as a bright red light illuminated the bridge. She looked at the giant sharp finned ship just in time to see it belch another red orb of destruction. She watched as the discharge rushed towards her at a breakneck speed and make contact with the Michigan's prow. The super-condensed antimatter exploded and mushroomed into a large black cloud, obscuring the view from the bridge. The protective multi-layer armor peeled back as it was eaten away, its physical state effectively neutralized by the dark matter and its negative properties. Radiation in the immediate area spiked at dangerous levels.

"Sh--!" Grayson swore loudly as the ship violently lurched in response to the impact. The weapons range of that ship was even longer that she thought! This called for a revision in her plan.

Then she remembered something. The Michigan was equipped with sunslayer torpedoes. They were newer versions, though, mark IIs – their surface was specially shaped and covered with a special skin that absorbed a variety of pulse signals, making it difficult for the package to be picked up by sensors and defense systems. After quickly forming a strategy, she gave the order to launch a salvo at the ship and for the fighters to run a diversion and draw off the red ship's turrets, leaving it open for the torpedoes to drive themselves into its sides. The orders were carried out, and the torpedoes were launched.

Meanwhile, as the Relentless continued pound away at Newark and Trenton, the alien battleship launched numerous vessels. Most were fighters, but among them were twelve dropships, silently preparing descend to the surface of Manhattan. And each one of them carried a platoon of soldiers, all with a burning desire to smite those who stood in their path.

-----

Twelve pillars of fire erupted from the sides of the Michigan as the Mk II sunslayer torpedoes were launched and in unison turned their warheads in the direction of the Relentless. These advanced weapons, designed to be as stealthy as possible, detached their launch engines and reverted the their second stage ion pulse-jets, leaving in their wake a faint shockwave ring of exhaust as they cycled the system once and exploded towards their target, speeding along at ninety KPS. From there the torpedoes would allow their own inertia to carry them towards their objective, the engines firing again only if a course correction was needed - all for the purpose of avoiding detection.

Although the torpedoes were hard to spot, to the trained eye they weren't invisible. This is why Marcus and his fighter wing had been sent to divert the attention of the dark red chrome ship and open a wedge in its defenses, allowing the sunslayers to slip through.

"All fighters break and attack! Keep your eyes open for any 'surprises,' though." Marcus cut off the transmission just in time to see one of the alien turrets warm up and discharge at his fighter wing. It screamed towards his position at an impossible speed, much faster than a tachyon bolt. Luckily his team was still a good distance away and was able to scatter just in time, and the boiling head of alien energy ate nothing but vacuum as it roared by, marking its path with a thick jet-black trail of antimatter. Another turret on the Leviathan ship cycled and unleashed its destructive charge, but this time at the Michigan, which still lay a good 7 K away from the battle. Marcus turned just in time to see the Michigan take a volley to the nose. He swore as he saw this and realized what had happened - the alien ship wasn't particularly interested in the fighters anymore.

Marcus soon found out why. As he neared the ship, several new craft, plated in the same red chrome, suddenly popped into existence with a multitude of dull thumps. They began to move to attack the approaching liberty Defenders.

A voice came over the wing comm. "There's a surprise for you, chief."

Marcus knew who had made the comment. _"Goddammit, Valentine,_" he thought, _"now is not the time to be making your stupid wisecracks!"_ Marcus took a precious moment to hit the comm. and angrily tell the man to 'shut his fucking mouth and pay attention to the task at hand.' With that done, Marcus moved to tail an alien fighter, weapons unleashing gouts of plasma at its position.

-----

Orad-Porel keenly observed the battle, his breathing slow and steady. He had no worries about the outcome of this battle – against the Relentless, even the human battleship posed very little threat. Orad was sure that he would cripple the enemy offensive, destroy the alien defensive forces and move in to take over the port – this planet the humans called 'Mehn-haht-ehn.' Despite the fact that the planet would obviously reek of human aromas, Orad felt that the colorful ball of dirt would provide him and his forces with its bounty, at least for a while – rumors told that the human choice of meat was actually decent.

But was it worth it? There was very little honor in defeating an enemy who would flee whenever you attacked. Even now Orad could see the stations rapidly launching ships as they evacuated. They were cowards, every single one of them, ever since their first attack was shamelessly put down. What kind of being would retreat without a fight? Based on their cowardice, Orad tried to imagine what a human would look like, but his brain drew up a blank; he could not imagine anything that he had not already seen.

With a blink, Orad cleared his mind and averted his thoughts to spiritual reasoning. Why had Koshadah made his servants so fearful and weak? It made no sense. Orad thought, _"If I had been Koshadah (and Gods forgive me for such a thought), I would have made them powerful and fearless."_

It was at this time that Orad realized that his rationality must have left him, because it decided to come crashing back down onto him. _"Isn't this a crusade?"_ Orad thought. Yes, the greatest crusade since the Great Unification. _"Aren't the Invader forces backed by the will of the gods?"_ Indeed it was. _"So maybe they are terrified of the Gods."_ The conclusion made Orad smile as he became even more confident of his immediate victory.

-----

Rames-Une-Teral was crouched in the large bay of a dropship, his massive body sticking out like a sore thumb among the other sixty-odd Invader soldiers that accompanied him. Due to the absence of gravity in the bay, each soldier had at least one hand clasped around one of a series of overhead railings, pushing upwards to keep their feet firmly planted on the deck. Each one sustained total silence and they turned their focus upon the lone Invader that stood up front, his importance made apparent by the bright blue war paint that had been artistically applied to his body, cutting jagged streaks across the skin and adding to his already menacing appearance.

"Lay waste! Conquer! Vanquish!" he shouted. "You are soldiers, and once we land on the battlefield, you will be representing the will of the Master, and through him, the wishes of the gods! They believe in you and your capabilities – do not fail them!"

Rames listened to the gargling voice of his battle commander with rapt attention, understanding his duty as an Invader soldier. He was here to fight, here to win. And he wanted to prove his worth… show that he was indeed a valuable addition to the growing Invader Empire.

As the seconds ticked by, gravity began to settle onto the dropship as it neared the planet and prepared for atmospheric entry. Rames sensed this and released his grip on the railing.

"Soldiers, dress, grab a weapon and prepare for deployment!" the battle commander shouted, pointing to the armory stacks on the walls of the bay. "Get moving, now!"

Rames joined the following chorus of brief pre-battle war cries and moved to equip his armor. After shoving through the crowd, he found the rustic metal dressings, easily distinguishable by their size. He grabbed it all – left shoulder pad, back plate, ankle cuffs (simple metal rings that protected the user's Achilles tendons), and helmet. The soldier quickly donned everything but the helmet, which he took a moment to look at.

Rames had always liked his helmet. While it did not offer complete protection (most helmets were open at the bottom, exposing the jaw), the area it covered was quite decent. The mouth area consisted of a grill-like structure, providing protection while still allowing Rames to breathe. The grill was also slanted, so Rames could open his mouth and not expose the sides of his jaw. The helmet also had large eye holes, giving a wide range of view, and stretched forward to minimize any blind spots down Rames' muzzle. And to top it all off, Rames' crest would be protected by a large curving horn that added fright value to the helmet.

Rames smiled. Whoever had made the helmet for him had been very thoughtful and precise about the design.

The dropship began to shudder as it entered Manhattan's atmosphere and was buffeted by the turbulent air. Rames-Une-Teral slipped the helmet over his head and moved to the weapons bin and pulled out his weapon of choice, an antimatter mortar cannon. He quickly inspected it, i.e. tapping the trigger to see if it stuck, lightly shaking the device and listening for loose parts, and sticking a clawed finger down the weapon's short barrel and pushing down the launch plunger, testing its resilience. Satisfied with the results, Rames reached into a nearby basket of energy cells, pulled out one, and slapped it into his gun's battery port. The battery contained compressed antimatter and was very heavy, and more than doubled the weapon's weight. Rames then grabbed a weapon sash and filled its empty clips with spare batteries. Now he was ready to fight.

The dropship continued to descend into the atmosphere.

-----

Trent just stood rather stupidly in place, watching his fiancée hurriedly equip her sidearm.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?" Trent was bewildered that Juni thought that the Invaders were attacking Manhattan.

Juni directed a glare at her fiancé, then strode over to the couch, grabbed the TV remote and turned the television on to the public news channel. The screen instantly flickered to life and was filled with video footage of an Invader battleship.

The video came from a ship-mounted camera, made apparent by the how the camera footage trembled slightly, and a blinking red icon in the lower left corner of the screen indicated that the broadcast was live. The video also had voice commentary from someone at the scene, most likely the person piloting the ship.

"…The scene here is… it's incredible!" the commentator shouted in a voice that was filled with both excitement and fear. "A massive red – thing has suddenly appeared just outside the Manhattan trade lane junction and has attacked the liberty forces! What the hell is that thing, I mean just look at it…" At this point, Trent didn't need anymore convincing to believe that Juni's prediction had been accurate.

What the commentator said next really got Trent's attention. "Whoa, hold on… I don't believe this! There are several large ships heading to into Manhattan's atmosphere! It looks like a like they're going to land their forces!"

"Grab what you need, Edison," Juni said quickly as she started to hurry towards the front door. "We're leaving."

Trent nodded and dashed through the bedroom and grabbed one of his blasters. But something told him that that wouldn't be enough, that he needed stopping power as well. So once he equipped the blaster, Trent went to the bed and pulled a long black wooden box out from underneath it. He fumbled with the latches, and a few seconds later, the box was open.

The weapon that lay inside was one that he had acquired in Rheinland. While not holding as many shots as a blaster, it was much better in stopping power. Instead of firing bolts of energy or plasma, though, this gun would send dozens of depleted uranium shards into the target, effectively shredding the inflicted area. Trent knew that if it came a certain point, the weapon could give him an advantage.

There was a problem, however: In the box there was only had one clip, for the thing. Trent grabbed it and slapped in onto the gun. One clip, seven rounds. Trent would have to use them sparingly.

Everything else Trent needed he already had, either in his ship or on his datapad. So not needing anything else, Trent ran back into the front room, where he saw Juni with her datapad to her ear, taking advantage of its phone system.

"Come on, wake up and answer…" Trent heard Juni whisper. Then with a huff of aggravation, she closed her datapad and pocketed it. Trent approached her, alerting the woman to his presence

"Juni, what's going on?" Trent asked.

Juni sighed. "It's my mother. We have to go get her."

**How do you like the story so far? Please review!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Above planet Manhattan, New York system

A full minute had ticked by and Rames-Une-Teral, along with any Invader soldier, could very easily tell that the ship was still in the middle of its descent. It was so easy to tell, in fact, that you would have to practically be dead not to know.

The small trembling that had been felt onboard the dropship as it began its atmospheric descent had now transformed into violent quakes that seemingly possessed the ship as it punched its way through the turbulent air above Manhattan, the framework creaking and groaning loudly. Through the craft's armored skin Rames could hear the deafening roar of the wind outside as it howled like no beast he had ever known.

Rames felt sweat bead up underneath his armor. The air inside the bay was growing considerably hot. The Invader had the atmospheric friction of reentry and the large, air hogging mouths of the sixty other soldiers onboard to thank for that. With no way to cool, circulate or replace the life-giving substance, the air was stale and had a bitter taste to it, as well as a certain itchiness that irritated Rames' eyes and made them water.

"Two minutes till dirt!" shouted the war-painted field commander, his voice somehow carrying over the din of the wind and rattling dropship.

Two minutes was too long for Rames-Une-Teral. He wanted to be planet side NOW. The atmosphere in the bay was becoming unbearable, despite the fact that Rames had made such reentry trips several times, and should have been able to tolerate such conditions. Yes, he was a seasoned foot soldier, having survived many battles and skirmishes, with many approaches locations requiring a reentry drop. This drop, however, was… the word 'different' was the only description that Rames could think of.

Rames, careful not to hit his head on the ceiling, looked over his shoulder and casually glanced at his surroundings. He could see the other Invaders onboard. Most of them fidgeting, checking and double-checking their armor and weapons. One or two of them, most likely rookie soldiers, stood with their mouths open, a common signal of overheating bodies. But after his ventures, Rames knew from experience that this could be deemed as normal. But was he the only veteran who was suffering on this drop? He could find nothing out of the ordinary about it, yet somehow it was making his physically very comfortable. And to add insult to his discomfort, Rames knew there was nothing he could do about it. So, impatiently awaiting the landing, the soldier shifted to face the bay door and tightened his grip on his antimatter mortar. He wanted to put this uncomfortable experience behind him. He wanted a distraction. He wanted to kill.

-----

A chain of explosions suddenly mushroomed out of the port side of the Relentless as all twelve Mk II sunslayer torpedoes smashed into their target. Their penetrating heads cracked through the alien armor, rattling the underlying over-engineered framework with shockwaves as the torpedoes unleashed a chemical hellfire inside the ships gut. Anyone who was caught in the blast quickly succumbed to the fire and vacuum, if not killed instantly.

But on the bridge of such a large ship, the only sign that the Relentless had been on the wrong end of a twelve-torpedo salute was when one of the monitors lost its video feed.

"Damned contraption," Orad-Porel muttered. These things always broke at the most annoying times. He turned to Invader behind the communication panel. "Communications, get a mechanic up here to fix the screen."

"Yes sir…" The communications soldier started, but was interrupted by a flood of frantic reports. His long face twisted into a look of concentration as he filtered out the voices. His eyes grew wide. "Sir! I am receiving reports that the Relentless has taken many hits on the port side! The hull has been breached in several places!"

Despite the other Invader's nervousness, Orad remained calm. "Were any of the fuel ballasts ruptured?"

The communications office blinked, and then relayed the question into the communications panel, which sent his voice into the desired areas. After listening to the responses, the Invader cleared his throat. "No sir."

A small, somewhat painful smile slowly crept over Orad-Porel's face and he let out a single laugh. "Look at them! Their attempts are so futile! They throw rocks at us!" Suddenly Orad's smile disappeared. "Return fire. Kill everything. Oh, and I still want that mechanic up here." Orad made this order sound live a passive statement.

"Yes sir."

Orad turned to view the working monitors, eyes drifting past the battle and at the planet. It looked so pleasing… the air lacked the blanketing cloud of dust that the Invader homeplanet had. The atmosphere was so clear; you could even see the ground. From the looks of it, it would be a decent planet to occupy, even if it was probably going to be a little bright. At any rate, Orad-Porel wanted that planet. But it was populated by humans… he would have to take care of that.

-----

Over the past two years while dating Juni, Trent had been able to meet and get to know his fiancée's mother. Born and raised in Kusari, Ms. Zane was half a head shorter than her daughter, with shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes and a round face. She was an adorable woman with a big heart and a sharp mind, and although she was much more passive than Juni, she could have a mean streak when you really made her mad. It was obvious which parent Juni took after.

Ms. Zane worked night shifts at a nearby hospital, working from dusk till dawn. This meant that with Manhattan's 31-hour days, coupled with her increasing age, made her shifts long and tiring. Therefore, obviously, she slept during the day. That's where the trouble was now. Juni's mother was not at all a very light sleeper. From what Juni had told Trent, Ms. Zane could sleep through all sorts of commotion, and would explain why she had not answered her daughter's call.

Juni was very close to her mother, so it didn't at all surprise Trent when she firmly stated that they were going after her mother. He merely nodded, double checking his weapons as he followed Juni out the door.

A public road ran adjacent to the front of the house, typical of Manhattan residence areas that lay nestled in large clearings, well away from the skyscrapers (Manhattan might be a single giant city, but with a population of 300 million people, against Earth's staggering 7.5 billion at the start of the 100-year war, the planet was very lightly populated, and had more than enough room for such areas). There was not a space worthy ship on sight; although space was plentiful, residential zoning laws prohibited landing a fighter or freighter inside the in or near the area; they had to be held within designated landing zones, most of them within the city. From there, the main mode of transportation was by public shuttles or personal air skiffs. Thankfully, the young couple had a skiff of their own.

"We'll be quick about this, Edison," Juni said to Trent as she made her way to the skiff. "We'll head over to my mother's place and pick her up. Then we get to our ships and launch." She unlocked the door. "I'm driving."

"Alright." Trent rounded the vehicle and got in the passenger seat. Once he closed the door, Juni tapped the ignition key and the engine turned over and the skiff rose a few feet off the ground, kept aloft by a gravpad. Juni pulled out onto the road and headed off.

"Edison, I need you to contact Orillion. Let him know what's happening. Could you so that for me?"

Trent knew better than to refuse this notion, and agreed without hesitation. He pulled out his datapad and used it to establish a connection with the Osiris.

Juni impatiently flexed her fingers on the steering wheel as she leaned on the accelerator. Her mother lived several miles away on the other side of the city in the innermost parts of the residential areas. She needed to get there as fast as possible and pick her up before the Invader battleship took control of the space around Manhattan. Who knows what the Invaders would do if they barricaded the planet?

"Done." Trent said a minute later as he pocketed his datapad. "Orillion knows."

Juni was about to say something to Trent when she suddenly noticed something in the sky. There, a thin trail of grey smoke leading into the horizon. And there, another was also headed into the distance.

"What are those?" she quietly asked herself.

Trent overheard Juni's remark and followed her gaze to the trails that cut through the sky. As he watched, the trail of the furthest smoke column hiccupped, creating a break in the contrail before resuming, the new trail having shifted to black.

Trent remembered the news report and winced. "I think those might be the Invader dropships," he said slowly.

Just then Juni's ears picked up a distant rumble over the low whine of air skiff's engine. She nudged Trent and got his attantion. "Do you hear that?" she whispered. As the two of them listened, the rumble quickly turned into a throaty, stuttering roar, accompanied by random screeches of metal scraping metal.

The noise climaxed at an incredible din, and both Trent and Juni saw a strange ship thunder a few hundred feet over their heads. The ship, a strange flying wing by the looks of it, was plated in dark red chrome, and trailing thick black smoke out of its two engine cowlings. Juni's eyes were locked onto the ship as it pulled up and gained altitude, slowing down as it reached the crest of its climb. It turned – and headed straight for the city.

"Dammit!" Juni leaned further on the accelerator.

-----

The wind died down, the air began to cool, and Rames-Une-Teral heard the engines ignite as the dropship began to pull out of its dive. At last, the ship was about to land, and the massive Invader would have his feet on solid ground again.

Rames did a last-minute double-check on his weapons and armor and, satisfied that everything was in order, brought the antimatter mortar to bear and firmly planted his feet on the deck, ready to run out and fight as soon as the dropship hit the surface.

The battle commander once again stepped out in front of the soldiers, donned in his armor, which included a helmet, breastplate, left armguard, right leg guard, gauntlets, and left ankle cuff. To signify his rank, the rustic metal plates were decorated with the same bright blue war paint that emblazoned his rough skin. He said nothing as he gazed at the soldiers under his command; he didn't need to. Even the rookies knew what a standard drop was like, and knew this one was going to be no different. The dropship would land and the soldiers would spill out and establish a perimeter while a previously selected, experienced group would quickly work on the dropship and uncover armored ports and attach weapon turrets so the ship could provide air support (the turrets had to be removed before a drop, or they would be damaged or destroyed in the heat of reentry). Once a perimeter had been established and the dropship had lifted off, the soldiers would scout in groups called assassin patrols, which would search for and destroy any threat that presented itself.

Everyone was eager to fight: this was what they had trained for. Throughout the bay of the dropship, Invader soldiers began to show their eagerness. There was quiet laughing as many combat veterans took the time to think about total victory. Others grinned, and many rookie soldiers shifted impatiently, their claws itching with the need to kill.

Rames felt the ship shudder as the dropship slowed to a near stall, before igniting its belly engines and lower its landing gear. This was it. The soldier tensed his legs, ready to spring out as soon as the hatch opened. As the Invader watch his commander turn around to face the hatch, Rames felt thumps reverberate through the ship as it touched the ground.

A few seconds later, the hatch fell open, and all hell broke loose.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Planet Manhattan, New York system

The Invader soldiers eagerly charged out, only to slow and halt as if they had run into a field of waist-deep mud. A few were even frightened by what they saw and tried to get back on the dropship, only to have their attempts foiled by the mass of Invaders behind them. What a terrible light this planet was bathed in! Sensitive Invader eyes burned, and many soldiers stumbled, blinded by the hellish illumination. Tension in the ranks quickly mounted, and the Invaders began to argue over what to do. But it wasn't until someone threw a punch that things became brutal. The platoon quickly erupted into violence and began to fight amongst themselves.

The battle commander was the one who made it out the furthest. Squinting in the light, the Invader found the outlines of two small bipeds. He quickly leveled his two antimatter pistols, dumped a charge into their barrels, and released the triggers. Each gun discharged with a sharp metallic _CRACK_, and two lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground, wisps of smoke rising from the ragged holes in their chests.

The battle commander quickly turned back towards his troops, becoming furious as he saw what they were doing. "You stupid shits!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Quit fighting! Establish the perimeter and mount the weapons on the dropship! NOW!"

The troops were just bringing the situation back under control as Rames-Une-Teral stepped off the dropship and rose from a low crouch to a high crouch, his height providing a good vantage point over the scene. His eyes burned as they were hit by intense sunlight, but he ignored it. The soldier growled, sweeping the barrel of his weapon over the heads of the other Invaders, searching for targets. But the light was seemingly protective of the human planet. Almost everything was obscured in illumination. But a few seconds later his eyes began to adjust, and he could make out vague shapes and colors. Unfortunately, there were no targets – none that could be distinguished as such, to his knowledge. Rames had never seen a human. What did they look like? Did they have hair, claws or teeth? Without this information, he would have to fall back on the basic uncertainty principle: shoot anything that moves.

After the platoon pulled itself back together, things progressed quickly. In less than two minutes the dropship had been armed and launched, and a perimeter had been established without a hitch. The fight, as quick as it had been, had resulted in two deaths and several injuries – not something for the commander to be very happy about. But now that the LZ had been secured, the dropship launched, and everyone armed and alert with weapons raised, the battle commander would have to punish his troops later. Right now he was contempt with familiarizing his soldiers with what a human might look like.

Holstering his weapons, the commander strode over to the corpses of the beings he had killed and promptly picked one up, analyzing its features; a light, small body, thin limbs, with five fingers on both if its tiny hands. The only hair it had was on the top of its small, somewhat spherical head. The head had a small mouth, a bump for a nose, and – the commander looked closer – eyes with ROUND pupils. Through the hole in the chest, you could see that the body's insides were red… how strange. The commander could only guess if it was human, though. But his gut told him it was. He trusted that.

The battle commander turned to face his platoon. "Soldiers!" he shouted, gaining their attention. "I know that none of you have ever seen a human." He stretched out his left arm, the body dangling by the head from his fingered gauntlet. "THIS is a human. You would have seen me kill this thing, had you all not been fighting like a bunch of confused vermin!" He approached the nearest soldier and thrust the body into his hands. "Pass it around and learn its shape! I want you fools to know what to shoot at!"

The commander's orders were wordlessly obeyed, and body was passed down the ranks. It finally reached Rames-Une-Teral, who lowered his weapon and wrapped his massive clawed fingers around the limp thing's torso, holding it up to his face.

"Ugly little thing," Rames commented before passing the body down the line. The Invader brought his cannon to bear again. He scanned the area again: still no targets. There had been no targets whatsoever since the dropship had landed. What was going on? If this was a human held world, then where in the world were the humans? Maybe all the noise the soldiers had been making had spooked the humans and scared them away.

After the human corpse had been seen by all the soldiers and unceremoniously tossed aside, the next thing to do was send out the infantry and broaden the Invader-controlled territory.

"Soldiers!" Rames heard his commander shout. "Assassin patrols! It's time to bunch up and head out!"

-----

"Battleship Michigan, this is LNS Omaha. We will be at your position in a few minutes."

Officer Jennifer Smith, who manned the communications panel, keyed a response. "Acknowledged, Omaha. Advise that you come at best speed, but keep your distance. This thing has a massive weapons range. Out." She terminated the transmission and relayed the information to her captain.

Upon hearing the news that support was en route, Grayson let out a sigh of relief. It was about time that some reinforcements arrived.

The captain returned her gaze to the battlefield and eyed the damage. In 30-odd minutes that had passed since the battle had started, the giant red ship had reduced Trenton Outpost into molten slag. Thankfully reports indicated that the base had been successfully evacuated. Newark Station had just finished doing the same. The red ship continued to bombard its alien energy into the side of the base, which had almost totally melted away. As Newark's structural integrity continued to dwindle, the whole base had started to warp out of shape as it succumbed to what remained of its artificial gravity field.

The Michigan had also taken several hits. The prow of the ship had taken a hit on the port side, and another near the engine, both having boiled away large chunks of protective multi-layer armor. Luckily, no major components had been hit, and the Michigan still had a strong pulse. However, the battleship had the short end of the stick in this battle, and so the captain had opted to stay back, destroying any enemy fighters that came too close.

Despite being nowhere near the thick of the battle, the Michigan and her crew were hard at work. The ships central computer was busy using a series of long range scans to build a detailed model of the massive red ship. At the same time, Captain Grayson was focused on a hologram of the scene, centered around her primary target, her brilliant eyes studying the ship and its attacks.

The goal behind all of this was to find a weakness in the ship, one that could turn this battle in her favor. Finding such a thing was crucial - there was practically no other way she would be able to win.

The computer pinged, notifying the captain of an update. It had finished mapping the massive ship, automatically bringing up a large 3d hologram of the object.

Captain Grayson eyed the model. It was a white wireframe representation of the ship, with small blue components that included weapon turrets, as well as detectable joints and seams in the armor. A few seconds later, the computer finished further calculations and pinged again as a thin red field settled around the holographic object to indicate the ships defense coverage.

That's when she saw it: the ship had significant blind spot in its weapons system, located directly over the massive ship. The blind spot was HUGE – it was large enough to accommodate the Michigan with plenty of room to spare. Even better, the craft's massive fins soared up to either side of it, providing a large amount of cover. If the captain could somehow maneuver the Michigan into that area… the liberty battleship could dig in and become a major pain in the ass.

But how would she get there?

-----

"Hamilton base, this is the wing leader of police squadron Beta 3. I have another potential bogey coming from my high seven, heading for the suburbs. Permission to take it out, over."

Officer James Sewall waited for a response as he watched a needle-like pillar of fire overhead grow larger with each passing second at it tore through the atmosphere at supersonic speeds. He adjusted his speed so it would fall in front of him, and the rest of his wing followed suit.

Dozens of these things had been falling from space over the past half hour. No one was really sure where they were coming from: they literally appeared just above the planet and descended into the atmosphere.

The ships had been falling long enough for headquarters to find that they all followed a similar pattern. Once one neared the end of its atmospheric descent, it would slow to a subsonic speed. Scans showed that during this time, the ships were unarmed. But once it got to the ground, it become armed, providing air support for the dozens of ground troops it deployed, all armed with advanced weaponry. Ground based officers reported that these troops were big, mean, fast… and presumed to be alien. It was an absurd idea; considering recent events, an Outcast attack was a more probable explanation. Sewall recalled how he had reacted with disbelief when he first heard the rumor, right before he had launched.

FLASHBACK

Sewall was listening to the base's radio system as a field reporter made a report, having hidden himself as the enemy troops approached his position.

"…can't quite tell what they are yet," came his voice through the speaker. "But they're big – at least seven feet. Some seem to be wearing armor. Hang on… looks like the armor is ballistic. Interesting…" The reporter sighed. "It's hard to say this, people," he said, "but this reporter thinks that these things are aliens."

"Aliens?" Sewall whispered, rolling his eyes. "Wort, wort, wort."

One of Sewall's wing mates, who had been standing next to him when he had uttered the phrase, looked at him in surprise. "Where did you pick THAT up?"

The wing leader shrugged.

END FLASHBACK

But now, after seeing what was happening, Sewall was becoming more and more aware that the ships, as well as the beings they carried, might actually be of alien origin.

A woman's voice came over the comm. "Acknowledged, Beta 3," she said. "Permission is granted. Send it to hell before it hits the ground, over."

Officer Sewall turned to his comm. "Thanks, Hamilton," he replied. "Out." The officer looked back up at the ship. It was much closer now; close enough that the man could see the craft itself. As he watched, its wispy contrail ended as the ship dropped to a subsonic speed, followed by the birth of a thick black contrail as the thing ignited its engines.

Sewall hit the team comm. channel. "Okay gents, let show this bastard our way of having a good time! Ready your weapons!"

Sewall's calculations were correct, and the craft fell directly in front of him, filling his cockpit with the shuddering boom of its engines. "Open fire!" he shouted. The Invader dropship was acquainted with the business ends of four armed Patriots as lasers and gouts of plasma cut a wide swath through the air and bombarded the red chrome ship. The dropship bucked and tilted at an odd angle, as if it was trying to veer away from the incoming fire. Someone launched a missile, and Sewall watched as it roared up to the ship and scored a hit just above the left engine. The missile exploded, tearing through alien metal and blowing a large hole through the engine cowling and braces. Now with the gift of mobility, the engine shifted, pivoting upwards until it caught. The power plant was now almost perpendicular to the craft, and was still pumping out hundreds of pounds of exhaust. The dropship, which was wider than it was long, was sent into rapid end-over-end flips, the intense gyrations shearing off one of the wings as the craft fell like a fiery stone, rupturing a fuel tank and releasing a massive cloud of antimatter into the air. The doomed ship then smashed into an open field, sending earth, wreckage and alien bodies for hundreds of feet in every direction.

"Yeah!" Officer Sewall shouted, pumping his fist in triumph.

"Hang on, boss," one of Sewalls' wing mates said. "We have another bogey inbound from your ten-thirty. Scanning… looks like this one is armed."

Sewall looked to his left and saw the approaching flying wing, the craft itself a narrow band in the sky as it came at him edge on. A large circle of black exhaust was visible behind it. The pilot keyed the comm. "Roger that, I see it. Looks like we have a dogfight on our hands. Engage!"

Officer Sewall steeled himself for the upcoming fight. He had heard the report about the fighting capabilities of these things. It had five turrets – two up front, two back, and one on top. Each gun was rapid fire, and could spit out an estimated three bursts of highly volatile energy per second. The alien ships were fast and could easily outrun a patriot, but Sewall had also heard that their turns in flight were stiff and sluggish.

The Invader dropship closed in, firing its two forward turrets as it came within range, cleaving the air with dozens of destructive orbs as large as a man's fist. The shots from one of the turrets was aimed at officer Sewall, and he pulled up, the glowing antimatter heads passing harmlessly beneath him before billowing out and ceasing to exist.

The dropship veered to the left, passing behind the police squadron and exposing them to its rear turrets. Both swiveled to a target and opened fire. The turrets were not very accurate, but one managed to land a shot on one of Sewall's wing mates, a woman named Joanne, just in front of the right wing. The concentrated antimatter exploded, searing through the Patriot's light armor and into the ship's delicate inner workings.

"I've been hit!" Joanne shouted through the comm. "My reactor's been damaged! Losing power…" The man's ship wobbled in the air, but the pilot managed to bring it back under his control. "I won't be able to stick around much longer."

Sewall tracked the enemy ship and was pleased to find that it was pulling a wide U-turn – perhaps the report had been right. The wing leader took the time to contact Marcus. "Hang in there, Joanne," he said. "Keep your head cool. We'll take this thing out."

The Invader ship finished its turn, heading straight toward the four Patriots, guns blazing. The human ships scattered, returning fire. Sewall took a hit to the top of his ship, and the wind whistled through the hole and filled the ship with its noise. Missiles were launched at the dropship as it passed, streaking towards their target, only to be left behind as the dropship streaked away. Eventually the missiles exhausted their fuel and transformed into puffs of smoke and fire as they automatically initiated their self-destruct sequences.

This was going to be a hard fight. The alien ship was employing hit-and-run tactics, a strategy that was proving most effective. The only counter attack that Sewall could think of was a form of strafing run as his target passed by. As the alien craft turned around again, the wing leader of squadron Beta 3 prepared for a pass by, angling his ship to the right of the incoming hostile and swiveling his guns to greet the enemy, engine roaring.

The red chrome dropship, as if sensing the man's intentions, turned towards the human craft and onto a collision course. It opened fire, and Sewall saw nothing but red as several shots landed on his ship and destroyed the cockpit, with him inside. The headless Patriot tumbled in the air as it fell from the battle.

7


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Unknown space, outside Sirius

_Thank fortunes, she understood the message._

_But what of her mother? She is obviously very determined to get her. This… compromises things. Should I help? If I do, It might catch me, as even now it watches me. And if it does, it will tell Him, and he could easily kill me. But why does He retain me so? I still do not know why he keeps me alive. And I can not find out… it would catch me, and then He would definitely kill me. But to be truthful, I wouldn't mind at all. I've been here for so long…_

_What are you thinking? You digress! Get back on track!_

_Never mind the consequences. He has caught me before, and he has not killed me yet; he still needs me for something. Yes, I will empty their way. Clear the way of their kind. Not of Them, It will find out... I have to work quickly._

-----

Juni steered the skiff onto the lesser roads of the city, skyscrapers towering high above her. The first thing she noticed was that her path was devoid of people. Not only people, but shuttles and skiffs as well. Where was everybody?

Bronze and silver buildings whipped by the skiff as Juni pushed the vehicle to eighty miles per hour. She put aside her questions and focused on getting to her mother's place.

_"They're going to kill my mother,"_ Juni thought. _"If I don't get there in time, they're going to break into her house and kill her. Just like they destroyed Orillion's forces, they're going to kill her…"_

Juni was stressed out. She was gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles had turned white. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her breathing was somewhat erratic. Trent saw this and decided that she needed to be calmed down.

"Jun'ko?" Trent started, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down. Nothing's going to happen to your mother." He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "Do you mind slowing down a bit? You're making me nervous." His attempt was ill effective, and his fiancée shrugged off his hand. Trent was forced to sit there, hoping that Juni's driving skills were as good as her piloting skills.

As they drove past an intersection, a dark, somewhat hairy figure darted out from the cross street and in front of the skiff. It wasn't human. Juni swerved to miss it, but she wasn't fast enough. She hit the thing with a glancing blow, and nine hundred pounds of vehicle shuttered from the impact. The figure let out a garbled roar of pain as it was thrown off its feet, its jaw broken.

Proving to be an advantage for almost any situation, skiffs were designed to be 'smart' vehicles, equipped with computers that would take control of the craft if it found itself in a situation that could be hazardous to the passengers. One such situation involved loss of traction. Gravpads could not maintain good traction if its course was suddenly altered at high speeds. So as Juni swerved to miss the figure, the vehicle began to slide. The skiff's onboard computer, sensing that the craft was in danger of crashing, locked the controls and applied the brakes in an attempt to prevent itself from hitting anything. The skiff slowed until it was at a near standstill before it gave control back to Juni, who loudly swore at the vehicle for trying to save her life.

"What the hell did we hit!" Trent exclaimed, looking back to see what the fallen figure was. Juni did not bother to respond as she forced the skiff to accelerate, the engine whining loudly.

Trent stared in amazement as the thing they had hit actually stood up and continued to howl in agony, its mouth limply hanging open. As Trent continued to watch, the creature attempted to correct the damage and took hold of what remained of its jaw, only to discover that this put it in even more pain. It staggered on its feet, roaring louder than before. It continued to roar as it retained its grip on the shattered mandible, not quite smart enough to ease the pain by letting go. Trent couldn't help but smirk at the thing's stupidity.

His amusement was short lived, however, as four more of the creatures, two of whom were donned in rustic metal armor, rounded the corner, looked at their injured companion and then at the skiff. Trent swore that he could hear their throats rumble a threat as they leveled strange weapons at the vehicle, an intense red glow quickly growing within their barrels. Almost in unison, the weapons discharged with a resounding _CRACK_, unleashing deadly concentrated antimatter projectiles (smaller versions of the ones made by Invader capital ships) into the air.

_"Oh fuck"_ Trent thought. He swiveled back around in his seat as red-hot orbs of destruction hissed by the skiff. He leaned towards Juni and grabbed her shoulder. "Jun'ko, we need to go faster," he pleaded. "You hit an Invader, and now its friends are pissed. We need to move!"

"What do you think I'm _trying_ to do!" she half-shouted, with much irritation in her voice. She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal, despite the fact that it was already down to the floor. The skiff continued to gain speed.

An alien roar made Trent turn his attention back to the Invaders, and he glanced behind the skiff to see the four aliens begin to pursue the vehicle, still firing their weapons. The Invaders started off in awkward steps, as if unused to running, but nevertheless they quickly gained speed. The creatures ran with incredibly long strides as their powerful legs vaulted their bodies into the air with each downward thrust. It looked like they were skipping. Trent might have found this funny if the four aliens weren't trying to kill both himself and Juni – or the fact that the Invaders were actually catching up.

"Faster, Jun'ko…" Trent said half-mindedly. Juni retorted with what Trent was sure was an insult, but he didn't bother to listen. His mind went numb; he couldn't think of anything he could do.

Fortunately for him, the Invaders' unusual running habits made it nearly impossible for them to land a shot on the skiff. Juni kept her foot down on the accelerator, and gradually the aliens began to fall behind. Trent came back to his senses and breathed a sigh of relief before turning back forward.

"That was close." Trent looked at Juni. She was hunched over the steering wheel, her lips pursed together, breathing heavily. Dammit. Now she was even more stressed out.

"Juni, you need to calm down…" Trent started. Suddenly he was interrupted by a hoarse cry.

"Kreen mutsh tun nehrasheh!"

Once again Trent pivoted around to see what was happening. One of the armored Invaders, dressed in a left shoulder pad and right arm guard, bellowed a war cry as it put every ounce of its being into a dead sprint. It bounded towards its target, closing in on the skiff at speeds just under fifty miles per hour. It squeezed the handle of its weapon, dumping a firing charge into the barrel. However, this time Trent held on to his senses. Wasting little time, he grabbed his blaster, opened the window and leaned out, facing backwards as his hair whipped in his face. From there he leveled his weapon at the Invader, who still trailed about fifty yards behind the skiff.

Trent pulled the trigger and watched as tendrils of energy burst forth from the weapon and pedaled themselves into the Invader, their sizzling bodies burrowing deep into the alien's skin. For a split second the being stumbled before regaining control over its body. It slowed and opened its mouth wide as it began to grow weary from the sprinting, face flushed yellow from the effort. Trent continued to fire upon the Invader as it steadied its weapon and released the trigger. The weapon discharged.

Concentrated antimatter erupted from the curved mouth of the alien weapon, its pernicious head punching through the air as it raced towards its destination. Time seemed to slow as it ran on a slightly arced trajectory, quickly gaining on the skiff. The Invader's aim proved to be true as the boiling projectile slammed into the rear of the vehicle. The glowing dark matter orb exploded, easily blowing a hole through the craft's thin skin, and began to dissolve the inner workings.

"Shit!" Trent shouted, ducking back into the skiff. He holstered his blaster.

Juni suddenly decided to speak. "We were hit, weren't we?" she asked tensely. Trent looked at her and nodded, despite the fact that she wasn't looking at him. "Yeah."

Juni looked at the dashboard dials. After a pause, she spoke up again. "The fuel tank's been hit."

"What?" Trent leaned over to look at the fuel gauge. It read 73. As he watched, it ticked down to 72, then 71. He groaned. As if the situation could get any worse!

"We have a few minutes of power left," Juni stated flatly. "Then we're on foot."

Trent sighed. "Can we get to the ships?" he asked.

Juni briefly looked over at her fiancé before returning her gaze to the road, easing the speeding air skiff through a gradual turn in the road. "No. We're almost out of the city." She glanced back at the fuel gauge. "We should have enough power to get to my mother's place. After that, we can use her skiff to get to the ship hangar."

Trent thought about what Juni said for a second before he grunted in approval. He had to admit it: even under stress, she was a good thinker.

-----

Rames-Une-Teral tore ahead of his patrol, snarling as he charged his attackers, barreling into the heart of their formation. Clutching his antimatter mortar in his left hand, he crouched down and began to swat the enemy with his right, with devastating results. Fingers outstretched, his five inch claws buried themselves deep into alien flesh before cutting upwards through organs and bones as Rames tossed the human bodies aside like rag dolls. The humans shrieked in their twittering language while those with weapons amassed their fire on the Invader's huge, muscular body. Rames felt each and every hit as the energy bolts tunneled into his skin and burst, sending a spider web of pain through the surrounding tissues. This only fueled his rampage. He continued his assault, quickly cutting the enemy down until there was only one left. It turned and ran, but only managed to get a few dozen feet before Rames' titanic stride brought the human close enough to be scooped up in a massive three-fingered grasp. Without hesitating, the gargantuan Invader took only a split second to whip around and hurl the tiny creature high into the air. He did not bother to watch where the body landed.

The battle won, Rames turned and walked back to his patrol, who were in shock at the performance they had just witnessed. Rames laughed inwardly. He had always enjoyed the reactions he got when he was in battle.

Keeping a serious face inside his helmet, the victorious Invader spoke to his patrol. "What are you soldiers looking at?" he demanded. "Keep an eye out for the enemy!" Upon that command, the rest of the patrol came to their senses and began to shuffle about, readying their pistols and mortars, eyes glancing into corners and shadows.

Rames-Une-Teral rejoined the assassin patrol and checked his wounds. Then, satisfied that they were only minor injuries, he brought his right hand back up to his mortar cannon, only to realize that it was covered in human blood and bits of red meat. Curious, he brought his hand up to his nostrils and sniffed the substance. Then, after checking his surroundings to make sure that the area was secure, he lifted his helmet and sampled the gore with his tongue, analyzing its taste and texture. It was satisfactory enough, and Rames lapped up the remains before pulling his helmet back down.

Rames-Une-Teral was the leader of this particular assassin patrol. With nothing else to keep him busy, Rames uttered a commanding grunt as he waved seven armored soldiers to move into the shadows of an alley. He followed.

The Invader in front of Rames, a rookie named Ger'occh-Tahcmeh, spoke up. "What you did back there, sir," he whispered, "was amazing."

Rames appreciated the comment. He didn't let it show, though, as he smartly smacked the soldier upside the head and told him to keep quiet.

The other end of the alley opened up to a massive opening with grasses and trees, with several roads that connected various large gray cemented areas together. At the very center of all this stood a massive 5-story white and silver fortress-like building. As Rames and the patrol watched from the shadows, several humans ran by in various stages of panic. Strange colored vehicles, somehow floating a few feet off the ground, whipped all around the area, going to and from the building. From where he stood, Rames could see that the structure's cavernous entrance was delicate and unprotected. Pathetic.

But Rames' gut instincts were telling him that there was something important about the building. He needed to take control of it. To do so would require a daring attack, and in order to succeed, the Invaders under his command would need to be healthy and alert.

The commanding Invader carefully eyed his team and came to a conclusion.

"So," he started, "who wants to go into that fortress and kill the humans inside?"

In unison, the battle-eager patrol agreed, setting their minds and reloading their weapons.

-----

Captain Janet Grayson stood on the bridge of the LNS Michigan, studying the3d holographic model of the mysterious battleship, deep in thought as she tried to find the best route into the blind spot in its weapons system. She didn't want to fly up and drop from directly above; that took too much time, and was easy to catch on. Should she perform such a maneuver, the enemy battleship could very well notice and thwart any approach by simply rolling on its side.

Grayson needed a different tactic. She approached the holoprojector and, using the control pad underneath it, began to manipulate the image. The red field around the holographic battleship mutated into a variety of colors and lines as it outlined the area coverage of each weapon. Again the captain began to analyze the now modified image, hoping to find a good entry point.

Lieutenant Warnack spoke up, interrupting her thought process. "M'am, I'm picking up three unknown contacts on long range sensors."

Grayson looked at the lieutenant. "Show me."

"Yes, M'am." A few seconds later, the holographic model of the alien battleship shifted to the side while a model of three entirely new ships took place in the gap. The captain raised an eyebrow, intrigued by their shapes.

"Lieutenant, make a detailed scan of those ships. I want to see weapons, armor, and equipment."

Warnack confirmed the order and began to put the battleship scanners through their paces. New pieces of the ship morphed into place on the model as new data was obtained. Four turrets popped into view as seams in the armor grew all around the unknown ship in light yellow lines. Finally, a large unknown component fell on the nose of each ship, flashing orange.

From her position, captain Grayson looked back and forth between the enemy battleship and the new ships. She quickly found similarities: Sharp fins that extruded out of the body, armor layout… were these new contacts some sort of support group for the enemy?

Grayson looked over at the sensory console. "Lieutenant Warnack, where are these new contacts?"

"M'am, they are approximately 12.7 K outside of weapons range." Warnack turned and made eye contact with the captain. "And that's _their_ estimated weapons range," he added. Warnack returned his attention to the console. "They're on approach, although moving extremely slowly. Estimated speed is twenty KPS."

_"Twenty KPS?"_ the captain thought. _"What the hell are they doing out there?"_ Grayson carefully eyed the strange looming ships, taking careful notice of the flashing orange components on their noses. "Lieutenant Warnack, what are those things on their prows?"

"The scans are inconclusive, m'am." Warnack studied data that the console displayed on its monitor. "They might be forward weapon cannons, but the computer hasn't been able to prove that." He typed in various commands as he tried to find out more about the ships.

Captain Grayson looked away from the holographs and turned her attention towards Officer Smith, who was busy surveying the fighters and listening to their reports. "Officer Smith," she stated, grabbing the woman's attention. "How are the Defenders holding up?"

Officer Smith turned, her brown eyes locking onto those of her superior's. "M'am, our forces are having difficulty fending off the enemy. They're being forced to fight in groups." She paused as she received new info through her headphones. "But you will be happy to know that the Omaha has closed in and had started to launch her fighters." She paused again. "M'am, we're being hailed by the Omaha. Want me to patch it through?"

"Do it."

"Yes M'am." Smith hit a few keys on her panel, and a man's voice, both calm and commanding came through the overhead speakers.

"Michigan, this is Captain Anderson of the battleship Omaha, approaching your position. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here? I can see that thing from here, mind telling me who built it? How did it get here?"

Grayson looked up at the ceiling and spoke. "Omaha, this is Captain Grayson of the battleship Michigan. To be honest, I don't know who built that thing or where it came from. The Michigan was on the far side of the planet when this battleship showed up." Through the speakers, she heard her fellow captain huff in disappointment. She continued. "It's supported by strange fighters that can warp themselves to other places, and three as-of-yet unidentified ships.

"Get your computer ready for an uplink; I'm going to send you info about the battleship, fighters, and unknown craft." Grayson nodded towards Officer Smith, who used the Michigan's communication equipment to send a data feed to the Omaha. "They might help us in destroying them."

It was several seconds before Captain Anderson made his reply. "Hmm… Thank you, Grayson." He paused. "Do you have any sort of plan?"

Captain Janet Grayson thought about the question momentarily. Now that the Omaha was here, new possibilities arose…

"Yes," she finally said. "I do."

8


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Invader homeworld, G-32 galaxy.

The prize room of the fortress that served as the Invader capital was known as Kamosht Sbeh, or Grand Hall. It was not very grand by human standards, though; Invaders didn't value petty objects and riches the way humans did. The floor and walls were made of roughly hewn stone. The majority of the stone surfaces were adorned with large scrawling symbols, written in red ink, telling tales of glorious battles from so long ago. Everything was lit in a pale yellow glow from a single electronic light that bathed the room from above, casting deep, crisp shadows throughout the room.

Its rich ambience was what made the room so important.

At the back of the room, facing the hall's engraved double iron doors, was the Invader leader himself.

Selestren-Kulam impatiently flexed his thick arms, his massive biceps bulging as he waited for the latest news from the battlefront. As he waited, he sat in a very ornate chair, a dim amber thing with blue feather-stuffed cushions and reinforced frame of thick, dark gray-brown steel to support the Invader's impressive weight.

Kulam momentarily squeezed the armrests, his black claws leaving impressions as they dug into the firm wood. The Invader leader was not a very patient creature. Due to such, his current situation was one of his least favorite to be in; battle reports took an incredible amount of time to process. He had already been waiting for fourteen minutes, and still no sign of progress. He was… dare he say it? He was _bored_. He wanted something to do.

Selestren-Kulam looked to his right, then to his left. Two Invader capital guards flanked each side of the chair, totally still and silent. Each of the guards, save for the soldier at the leader's far left, wore a full suit of armor. Each piece of armor was unique and reflected the beliefs of those who made them. They varied in shape and size, from thin and light to thick and heavy. Some had large barbs, while other pieces had blades welded onto the surface, while still others had no protrusions at all.

Each soldier had a weapon sash about their waists and an antimatter mortar cannon slung around their torsos. Kulam looked at the nearest soldier on his left. The soldier stood stock still, refusing to take notice of his leader's gaze - exactly what a capital guard was trained to do. But he had been standing there for a few hours… had the soldier grown weary?

In the blink of an eye, Kulam snapped his fingers, and the soldier's hand instantly jerked upwards towards the handle of his mortar cannon. Then, realizing that there was no immediate threat, the soldier let his hand slowly fall back to his side. The Invader leader made an unnoticeable smile, satisfied that the guard was alert.

Selestren-Kulam settled back in his chair. As he sat there, his thoughts turned to his potential mates. There was Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei – as the leader had come to know the clutch females, she had fallen into second place, outranked by another female by the name of Plaifet-Nuun.

Essehui was a rather young Invader – so far she had only birthed one child (a male). However, she was very intelligent for her age and gender. Sometimes she enjoyed asking the Invader leader how and why things worked to the point that he became greatly irritated, though, and the Kulam did not like the fact the she might be able to outsmart him.

Nuun, on the other hand, was older and had birthed four children (three males and a female), and had recently held the duty of raising young Invader males and preparing them for the military. Her personality was generally cold and sometimes arrogant, but she readily took orders and performed her duties well. This made her Kulam's first pick, but not by much.

Kulam put his left hand to his bony chin, massaging it thoughtfully. So far, his choice was rather difficult. But what if he were to compare the two females side-by-side, and see how they interact with each other, with him in their presence? It was an intriguing question that could open new opportunities.

The Master rubbed his hands together, a plan forming in his mind. He turned to the capital guard on his far left.

"Soldier!" he barked.

The capital guard stepped outward and turned towards Selestren-Kulam, kneeling in salute. "Yes, Master?" he whispered humbly.

"Go retrieve the females Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei and Plaifet-Nuun. Bring them here."

"Immediately, Master." The capital guard was allowed to rise, and Kulam watched as he ran to the iron doors and left the room. Kulam took the time to groom the long black hair on his arms.

Kulam had finished his preening by the time the capital guard returned with the two requested females in tow. The guard knelt in salute before returning to his assigned position.

The females knelt before Selestren-Kulam, exposing their unprotected necks to the Invader leader. Kulam allowed them to rise.

Selestren-Kulam took note of the various differences between the two females. Plaifet-Nuun was a few inches shorter than Essehui, with more muscle and hair. She had a faint scar on her muzzle that passed below the right nostril. And in contrast to Essehui's bright yellow eyes, Nuun's were dull and pale, and a grayish yellow color. Her face held graceful contours that gave her a wise appearance. She also had a rather large ego, and it showed from time to time.

The Invader leader spoke in a polite manner. "Plaifet-Nuun, and Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei. It is a pleasure seeing you again." Kulam saw Nuun's torso expand slightly in response. "I have some questions that I want to ask you."

-----

Outside the Invader capital, the morning sun was beginning to rise from behind the mountain Messenger, and the dark shadows that blanketed the fortress slowly began to recede and die. It was quiet, so quiet that you could hear the stream that ran through the capital as it whispered its quiet melody, as well as the sleepy morning rhythm of nature as life outside the walls began to stir.

But not all was peaceful, evident as a young Invader sentry guard named Yumuos-Getnou-'Sie-Dem hastily donned his iron chest plate and helmet before sprinting from the barracks towards the steep stairs that led to the top of the walls that enclosed the capital.

He was late again, dammit. Mating season was beginning, and Yumuos had spent too much time the previous night courting females. And now he had overslept. As he ran, the Invader silently cursed himself for his lack of self-discipline. Work came before pleasure; he knew that his repetitive tardiness could become a serious threat to his duty and his honor, not to mention his physical well-being.

Yumuos ducked between various buildings as he followed familiar path that ran in a relatively southern direction until he met the walls. From there he ran due east along the perimeter, running under massive twenty-foot thick braces that held the five-story walls firmly in place. The soldier ran until he found the fore mentioned stairs, an all-but-empty wooden weapon rack, and a very impatient and angry-looking Invader soldier who was garbed in a significant amount of polished armor, as well as a rare pair of honorary chain-mail hose.

The impatient alien was Tuus, Yumous' commanding officer. The tardy soldier felt his superior's eyes lock onto him as he approached.

"You are late. Again," Tuus growled as Yumuos came to a halt in front of his superior.

The sentry kneeled before his superior. "My apologies, sir, I overslept again. You see, with mating season…"

"Enough!" Tuus shouted, bringing the soldier's excuses to an abrupt halt. "You know as well as I that duty must come before pleasure, and yet you seem to think that your sexual urges are good enough reasons to be continuously late to your post!" His point made, the superior of the two soldiers approached the other and inspected his armor dressings much more roughly than usual, putting Yumuos at a significant amount of discomfort. The officer forcefully pushed the sentry's head up and checked the fastenings of his helmet before giving a somewhat disappointed grunt of approval.

"You're gear is fine," Tuus stated flatly, stepping back. "Grab your weapon and a battery sash, and make haste to your post."

Silently Yumuos-Getnou-'Sie-Dem heartily agreed, but as he made to pass his superior, Tuus' powerful hand shot out and wrapped itself around the sentry's neck.

"One more thing," Tuus growled. The officer's massive bicep flexed, and Yumuos was somehow dragged closer until the poor soldier was nose-to-nose with his superior. "Keep this in mind: if you are late again, I WILL have your head on a pike."

Tuus' hand was clenched tightly around Yumuos' neck, and the sentry could only wheeze his acknowledgements.

The officer threw the soldier to the ground. "You have wasted enough of my time," he hissed. "Get going." And with that, Tuus strode off, leaving the sentry Invader to his duties.

-----

Damn the Invaders. Damn them to hell.

Within the last hour, the Osiris had received a flood of reports that Invader battleships were attacking systems within colonies. Not just attacking any systems, but attacking the capital system of each major house.

Orillion sat in his private quarters, back to his old bottle of Edinburgh scotch. As he sat, the stressed leader poured a finger of the drink into a small glass and quickly downed it in one swift gulp. It burned his throat only slightly; Edinburgh scotch was a 'polite' drink – meaning that it wasn't as strong as other alcoholic beverages.

Even though he had a high bar of stamina, Orillion was still human, and the stress from recent events was finally beginning to wear him down. An ache had formed in the back of his head, barely noticeable at first, but had since grown into a constant annoyance that stubbornly refused to cease, even with medication. His face was drawn out and his mind was sluggish; he hadn't slept in over fifty standard hours. It wasn't that he hadn't tried. He simply couldn't.

But due to the present crisis, Orillion was willing to tough it out. Headache and fatigue aside, he was mad. How did the Invaders discover the human-held systems? The man set his mind at a steady pace, mulling over the possibilities. He immediately ruled out a deciphering of the human language; all human communication channels were encrypted. And that along with the fact that the Invaders didn't encrypt their own ship-to-ship messages, it was a near given that they wouldn't be able to crack such codes.

Orillion sighed, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another finger of scotch. How the Invaders found the colonies wasn't important now: defending them was. As soon as the Osiris had started receiving the messages, Orillion had given the order to move into Rheinland and assist. Out of all the colonies, he knew that Rheinland would be in the most trouble. For years the nation had been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and the colonial war that had been brought on by the Nomad infiltration had ultimately left Rheinland with four cruisers and one considerably outdated battleship, the Westfalen. And to make matters even worse, the nation's continuous lack of money and equipment had caused the Westfalen to fall into extreme disrepair – it was in such poor condition that it couldn't even ignite its engines and break orbit from around planet Kiel. That meant that the police and military had virtually no heavy reinforcements to combat Invader fighters, much less the titanic battleships.

Orillion downed the contents of his glass and sealed the bottle. He needed to be doing something besides drinking.

His thoughts turned to his colonels Trent and Zane, and the Order leader closed his eyes and let out a low breath of self disappointment. He had sent them home for this? Manhattan was under attack and the Invaders were landing troops on the planet surface. And still more bad news: if the reports could be believed, the Invaders were big, fast, extremely strong, and had a remarkable amount of endurance. They were like something out of a nightmare.

_"'For the best', my ass,"_ Orillion thought. _"I should have never listened to that voice in my head."_

Orillion could only hope that the pair made it out alright.

For three minutes the man collected his thoughts before he was interrupted by a belch of static as the overhead speaker came on and voice of Lieutenant Anthony Carson came through.

"Orillion, sir! This is Lieutenant Carson. Are you there?"

Orillion looked upwards at the ceiling. "I'm here, Lieutenant," he replied, "what is it?"

"I have major news from Bretonia, sir. The Invaders have destroyed the battleship Sellack, along with a cruiser, the BNC Martham. They are now landing forces on planet New London."

Orillion was silent for several seconds as this new information sank in. "I see," he finally said. "Thank you for the update, Carson. Orillion out."

As the lieutenant gave his regards and terminated the communication, Orillion's mind went into a haze. As he let the haze consume him, his vision blurred to white, a tingling sensation came to his face, and there was a faint ringing sound in his ears. Orillion had no recollection of how much time had passed before he finally snapped out of it, only to find himself staring at his bottle of Edinburgh scotch, which now seemingly sat oh-so-patiently before him, looking friendly and inviting.

_"Screw it,"_ Orillion thought as he grabbed the bottle and accompanying glass and poured himself another drink.

**To all you guys who have enjoyed my story so far: Thanks!**


	27. Chapter 26

**Wow! Even after 3 years with no updates, I'm surprised to see that there are still people who want me to finish my story. I had fun writing this story, but unfortunately a combination of almost constant writers block and a girlfriend broke my writing habit. I never announced this fanfiction dead, because I still wanted to someday finish it, and now I am going to try to do that. A new chapter, after 3 years of being nearly finished, is finally ready! To all of those who have waited all this time for an update... I present the long-awaited Chapter 26 of Ragnarok.**

**Chapter 26**

Battleship Relentless, over Manhattan, New York system

Orad-Porel gingerly ran a claw over his infected wounds as he watched the monitors, their screens filled with the surrounding environment. The Invader scowled at what he saw. The damned aliens had taken him by surprise; not only did they refuse to flee, they were proving to be much more cunning and determined than the Invader captain had ever expected them to be. Their fighters, as pathetic as they were, housed superb pilots who had already learned to counter the Invader fighter tactics. This battle would prove to be a bloody one.

But as much as Orad wished to see such a fight, he knew that he needed to save his forces. With the majority of the soldiers taking the fight to the surface of 'Mehn-haht-ehn,' the battleship would more or less be running on a skeleton crew.

Orad knew from records that keeping a massive battleship such as the Relentless running with the bare minimum of soldiers was a significant risk. The smaller the crew keeping the battleship in check, the greater the chance that some minor issue would be overlooked until it grew into a serious problem. The commander could recall one such incident where an old battleship blew its engines and crashed into a moon after her particularly lax crew failed to monitor the ship's power systems. (The Invader military had quickly damned the memory of the deceased crew for such gross incompetence.)

So in order to preserve the lives of his pilots, Orad had ordered the burner ships Turmoil, Agony, and Woe to teleport themselves out of the Relentless' bay and provide assistance. Their orders were very specific: one by one, they would charge their main cannons. Since the burner ships would be defenseless while charging their clusterbeams, one of the other burner ships would guard its occupied companion while the last one would drive itself into the enemy forces and open a cone in their defenses. Orad-Porel knew that the plan was a fierce one, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he continued to observe the battle.

With an air of confidence, Orad-Porel strode over to one of the display monitors that walled the deck. The particular monitor that he chose was one that provided an excellent view of the planet. The commander suppressed a smile: he had confidence in his troops and knew that they would carry out their mission. Assassin patrols had always proven to be devastating. And Rames-Une-Teral was down there. Orad took a moment to wonder what kind of carnage the leviathan was leaving in his wake.

Orad turned to the Invader at comm. station. "Communications! Give me an update on the ground assault."

The Invader gave the commander an attentive eye. "One moment, sir," he stated flatly.

Orad watched as the Invader's claws rapped sharply against various keys on the console.

"Sir, the assault is progressing quickly. It will only be a short while before the troops have cleared out an enough area large enough for us to send reinforcements."

Orad nodded. "Reinforcements, indeed," he muttered.

-----

Rames-Une-Teral took a long, deep breath and let out a terrifying battle cry before exploding out of the shadows towards the fortress-like human structure, the rest of his patrol in close pursuit.

There were hundreds of targets, each one of them a potential threat to Rames' mission. Any one of them could be trained and equipped for combat. Thanks to his military training, Rames knew this all too well, and was not one to underestimate any foe. So, instead of making a beeline towards the fortress, the massive Invader dug his bare feet into the alien terrain and made (for a being his size) a sharp right, strafing the battleground lobbing shot after shot of compressed antimatter at the fortress, the vehicles, and anything else that moved. The rest of the patrol had scattered, the smaller, more vulnerable soldiers choosing to duck in and out of the battlegrounds as they saw fit.

Rames' long muscular legs pumped, and the alien bounded a quarter of the way across the field before he chose to duck between two buildings on the perimeter. He dropped to a squat and rested his weight on his leg muscles as he eyed for another opening to charge and further wound the defense.

It took a while for Rames to find an opening; there was so much activity. Nevertheless, his war-trained eye found an opportunity on the other side of the grounds – a loose cluster of the pale bodied humans. After a quick tap on the trigger of Rames' antimatter mortar, the massive alien once again forged a path of destruction through the battlefield, firing his weapon as he crossed the terrain. An unoccupied vehicle was parked in the path of Rames' carnage, and debris exploded upwards and outwards as the Invader firmly planted a massive foot on its roof, flattening the vehicle as he pushed off. The crushed metal and debris cut into the alien's foot, but the soldier was too caught up in the battle to notice.

Rames-Une-Teral reached the other side and ducked between two buildings. His weapon had become significantly lighter, indicating that the battery was almost empty. Rames took a moment to release the near spent battery of his mortar cannon and quickly obtained new one from his satchel, slamming it into the weapon's port and locking it in place. Obscured in shadow, the Invader carefully eyed the fortress, as he tried to make out the smaller details of the structure (the intense sunlight still somewhat obscured his vision).

It was then that the soldier noticed that there were no guards. None at all. None on the walls, and even from this distance, Rames could see that the only humans exiting the structure were terrified things, their short legs pumping as they attempted to flee.

So far, Rames-Une-Teral had found the humans to be very pathetic and confusing. They were obviously ill-prepared to handle ground based attacks. And why, as Rames was attacking this fortress, were the humans running out into the open when they would obviously be safer if they just stayed behind the walls?

The Invader scowled, taking a moment to wish that the humans would put up a decent fight.

Rames was pulled from his thoughts when a black transport suddenly flew into the area surrounding the human fortress. Rames, with his somewhat obscured vision, analyzed the craft. He determined that it was not an Invader ship; he had never seen a ship like it in his military. The Invader watched as the thing's whispering engines quickly guided the machine to the front of the white structure and dropped like a rock. Rames expected the craft to crash, but was surprised when it halted its fall and hovered a few feet off the ground as several small black dots fell out of it. The black ship then climbed into the air and began circling the human fortress, as if guarding it.

Rames eyed the ship warily, waiting to see what it would do. After about three laps around the fortress, the ship suddenly veered off course and opened its guns. Flares of light poured out of the weapons, and the massive soldier watched as another Invader was pierced by the flares, folding in the middle. The ship then returned to the fortress and began circling it again.

Damn.

Rames-Une-Teral knew that he was not equipped to tackle an enemy aircraft. The projectiles from his antimatter mortar, while devastating, flew too slowly to be of any real use against flying machines, especially at long range, where Rames stood now. If he fired on the black ship, the human craft would have ample time to dodge the attacks. Even worse, the antimatter's thick contrail would give away his position.

But Rames' battle hardened mind screamed at him to take the fortress. He needed to find a way to counter this new threat.

The titanic soldier quickly glanced at the alley he was in. It was a small, narrow thing, completely covered in shadow. Small pieces of litter were dotted here and there on the ground. Rames glanced behind him to see that a vertical slit of light at the other end; the alley continued for a long way before it opened again.

Rames-Une-Teral took in his surroundings before made a decision. With a low, disappointed growl, the armored Invader took three steps back and fell forward, catching himself with his free hand. Then, bringing his mortar cannon to bear, Rames lowered himself onto his belly and lay still.

Rames tracked the black aircraft with angry yellow eyes, thoroughly frustrated by its presence. There was nothing he could do about the thing. He would have to stay hidden until an opportunity presented itself. So, the soldier tensed his leg muscles and prepared to spring from hiding when that opportunity arose, and kept his eyes and ears open for any changes in the fight.

He waited.

-----

True to Juni's word, it wasn't long before the Manhattan skyscrapers gave way to residential neighborhoods. Houses of varying size and shape whipped by the windows as Juni continued to push the pedal to the metal on the wounded skiff, easing up only to make turns, and cursing the design of the craft as she went. She had almost completely shut herself off, responding to any physical or emotional support from her fiancé with a nod or a short sentence, leaving Trent with little to do but worry about her and hope that she didn't wreck the skiff – the stress that she was under was making her driving somewhat erratic.

Finally, Juni turned into a cul-de-sac and parked the skiff to the left side of the street in front of a small one-story white house with an attached garage and a gently sloping roof - the house that her mother lived in. Juni moved with swift determination, shutting off the engine, unbuckling the safety harness and exiting the vehicle before the craft had completely settled onto the pavement. Juni ran for the house.

It was then that Juni gave Trent her attention, looking over her shoulder at the man as he exited the vehicle. "I'll get my mother," she shouted. "You stay here and watch the skiff!"

Trent started to protest. "But, don't you…"

"Just do it, Edison!" she snapped back, the tone of her voice effectively silencing her partner.

Juni reached the front door, rang the doorbell and started fumbling with the security device. After a few seconds, it was unlocked, and Juni bolted into the house, tearing through the entryway and taking a right down a hall.

"Mother?!" Juni called out as she ran towards the bedroom. She was certain that her mother would be there – after all, she slept during the day. Juni ran past a few closed doors before stopping in front of the last door at the end of the hall: the bedroom. Without hesitation, she grabbed the handle, turned, and pulled the door open.

"Mother?" she called as she took a hurried step inside the bedroom.

The room was a quaint one, with walls painted a soft, light green with thin hazel borders, and a carpet tinged blue. Furniture aside from the bed, consisted of a desk and a wardrobe/hall tree, which sat at the far end of the room, and were both adorned with pictures of family and friends, among them images of a nine-year-old Jun'ko smiling alongside her parents, a portrait of the late Mr. Zane, and a recent addition: Juni being hugged by Trent from behind, both of them smiling.

Juni saw none of this, however, as she swiveled her head to see her mother sleeping soundly in her bed.

But there was a problem: Ms. Kumiko Zane wasn't there.

-----

From what Captain Greyson had seen so far, the enemy ship imposed an intriguing problem. In offensive terms, the weapon technology that the vessel carried was intimidating, with ordinance capable of lobbing highly destructive projectiles of energy farther and faster than the weapons onboard the Michigan, and with decent accuracy. Fortunately, so far there had been no signs that the ship carried missiles or torpedoes, or any other type of guided weapon. But defensively, the ship was lackluster. Aside from the aforementioned blind spot in its weapons systems, it seemed that whoever or whatever had created the ship had designed it to absorb any kind of attack on it, instead of countering or blocking them. It was the ships sheer size that employed this idea; any critical components that it had were bound to be buried deep within the ships innards, making a critical hit near impossible, and allowing the craft to take a tremendous amount of punishment before failing.

Taking all of this information in, Captain Greyson's strategic mind had hatched a plan to get both the Michigan and the Omaha into the massive blind spot above the enemy mothership. It was dangerous, yes – but it was the only thing she could think of.

"Omaha, the enemy ship has a very large blind spot in its defense systems, located directly above it. Here's what I want you to do: I want you to position yourself approximately 4K away from me, and when I give the signal, were both going to put our ships into overdrive and use our bow and port thrusters to put the ships into a tight clockwise corkscrew, heading towards the blind spot. I believe that this is the best guarantee that at least one of us will make it into that blind spot if it tries to throw us off by rolling. And since the target is currently facing away from us, it's actually presenting a small target, meaning that the chance of a collision is minimal." Grayson had by this time produced a small handheld computer and had entered the details of her plan onto it.

"I'm sending you the specifics," she said as she handed the computer to Officer Smith, who copied the information and sent it to the Omaha.

There was a long pause from the Omaha before Captain Anderson finally spoke up. "You know that my ship wasn't made to pull a stunt like that," he said slowly. "The Gs could damage the framework. And your ship is the same design, so that includes you as well."

Greyson had already thought of that. "I know that, Captain, but unless you've got a better idea, I suggest that you get into position and tell your crew to sit down, lie down, or grab hold of something, and prepare themselves for one hell of a ride."

Anderson sighed over the comm. channel. "Fine," he said resentfully, "have it your way. I'll be in position shortly."

"Thank you, Omaha. Michigan out."

Captain Greyson returned her attention to the battle, her eyes flicking to the small red pinpricks – the unidentified ships – as they lazily drew closer to the battle zone. _"What the hell were they doing?"_ she thought as she watched them with an attentive eye.

Greyson grumbled and shifted her footing, seemingly already preparing for what she was about to put her ship through. She barked a few more orders to get the calculations for her daring move, and waited for the Omaha to move into position.

**There's chapter 26! wish me luck on the next chapter.**


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